BabySitter Rejected

I had accepted (reluctantly) a babysitting job for George Mathers. If it had been my own decision I'd have politely explained that at eighteen I considered myself too old to be babysitting and I'd much rather go to a club with friends. Unfortunately my mother answered the phone and accepted the job for me.

Have you ever tried to cancel an appointment that your mother has made for you? In that case you know how hard it is to do so. She'll guilt you for a year, always referring back to it anytime something comes up. Much easier to just grit your teeth and do as she's decided.

"But you've always sat for George," she'd say. "He was your first customer when you started sitting."

With that sort of start she'd have been off and racing, all my rebuttals ignored as of no consequence. She could afford to do this. She wasn't the one having to do the job.

I painted a smile on my face and fronted up at George's place at the required time. He had a genuine smile on his face, quite happy to see me.

"Just toss your things in the spare room," he told me. "You'll find Jenny is in her room."

My things? What was he on about?

"Ah, excuse me? My things?" I asked, seeking clarification.

"Your nightwear," he said cheerfully. "Your mother did mention that this was an overnight job, didn't she?"

Well no, she'd somehow or other missed telling me that part. Still, no problems. I could sleep in my undies if I had to.

"Ah, no, she forgot to mention that," I said dryly, "but it's not a problem."

I did toss my purse into the spare room and then I went to say hullo to Jenny. She was nearly ten now and quite an engaging young girl. I never had to put up with whining tantrums from her.

George departed and Jenny and I mucked around for a while. Her bedtime rolled around soon enough and, while I gave her some leeway, I had her tucked away and asleep at a reasonable time. Not being ten myself I didn't go to bed. I went burrowing through George's DVD collection and settled down to watch a movie. Then, not really feeling tired, I watched another one.

What with one thing and another it was past midnight when I got up, stretched, and headed off to bed. I was lucky in the fact that the spare room had a small en suite. I stripped down to my undies, washed my face and was ready to go to bed when I had a thought.

Did I really want to wear my undies all day, sleep in them all night, and have to wear them again tomorrow? Yuk. I did not. I did what any sensible young woman would do. I stripped them off, gave then a quick wash in the basin, and draped them over the towel rack to dry. Come the morning they'd be nice and dry and clean. That done I wandered back into the bedroom, ready to go to sleep.

What I wasn't ready for was to find George standing in the middle of the bedroom, looking at my naked body, with an expression you would expect to see if someone had been slapped by a wet fish. Boy, was he shocked. Not as shocked as I was though.

I gave a little scream and tried to cover up while his expression changed into a great big smile and he reached for me.

He started kissing me but I was not kissing him back. I was wriggling and screaming and protesting and pushing against him. (I stopped the wriggling when it dawned on me that he was enjoying it.)

The fact that I wasn't kissing him back didn't seem to slow him down much. His mouth moved down across my neck and shoulder, kissing me all the way, and then settled on my breasts, giving them a lot of loving attention. At the same time he stopped holding me against him and one hand drifted down to my bottom and the other to my mons.

It was a case of 'oh my god, what is he doing'? Well, it was pretty easy to tell what he was doing because I could feel exactly what was happening. His mouth was devouring my breasts and sucking on my nipples while one hand was stroking my bottom and the other was rubbing against my pussy, and rubbing quite firmly, too. I could feel that rubbing all the way inside me.

It turned out I wasn't au fait with everything that was happening. It took me quite by surprise to find myself flat on my back on the bed as I could have sworn George hadn't taken his hands off me at any stage.

As it was I found myself lying there and George's mouth was moving south at a slow pace, licking and kissing every inch of me along the way. While he was doing that his fingers were going exploring, dipping between my lips and probing internally, touching and teasing and making me feel the most peculiar things.

I was horrified when his mouth covered my mound, his tongue darting in all direction. His tongue slipped between my lips and I found that it was way, way, worse than having his fingers there. It seemed to touch every fibre of my being and heat was blossoming deep inside me, the lashing of his tongue helping to stir me up.

I was clutching at his hair and giving puling little protests which were totally useless.

I was all, "George, argh, don't, you can't do that, my god what are you doing, argh, stop that at once," and George just kept tasting and touching and stroking and petting.

If anyone tells you that a man can't find the clitoris don't believe them. George had no trouble finding mine and I gave a small shriek when his tongue started probing around there, followed by more shrieking and protesting when he kept on doing it.

Despite anything I might want I was now fully aroused, knowing what was coming. George was going to rape me and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that I could do to stop him.

He kept on touching and petting and tasting and my excitement was almost too much too bear. I didn't actually have an orgasm but I sensed I was close to it.

Somehow George found time to undo his trousers and push them down out of the way and he moved my hand until it was wrapped around his erection. Not wrapped all the way around as my hand wasn't that big, but his erection certainly was.

I suppose that really I should have snatched my hand away in maidenly indignation but I just didn't think to do so. Instead of letting go I was hanging onto it as if it was the only solid thing in a shifting world, which was probably fairly true. It felt very solid and my world certainly seemed to be shifting around me. I was about to join the ranks of ex-virgins and I wasn't going to get any say in the matter. I was both horrified and excited and I just couldn't believe George was doing this to me.

George lifted his head and looked at me. I could swear his eyes were glittering with desire and as his gaze swept up and down my body I could practically feel where they were looking.

He gave me a brilliant smile and I was almost trembling, knowing what was about to happen.

"I think we'd better call it quits at this stage," he said, "or we'll find ourselves going a lot further than you want."

He still had that brilliant smile and I was looking at him with a mind that had gone completely blank. I'd heard what he said and I understood each and every word but the complete sentence didn't seem to make any sense.

He watched me, looking most amused, while I struggle to comprehend what was taking place. He was stopping. He wasn't going to rape me or even try to seduce me. He was stopping cold. He'd got me all worked up and aroused and hot and wet and expectant and scared and everything and now he was saying thanks, but no thanks? He was rejecting me at this stage?

"Excuse me?" I said and my tone was cold enough to freeze water.

"I said I think we'd better. . ." he began, but I wasn't having a bar of it.

"I heard what you said," I yelled. "Where the hell do you think you get off, calling a halt at the last moment? It takes gold plated gall to pull a stunt like that. Did I ask you to start this shit? No, I didn't. You were a one hundred percent self-starter and now you're saying you haven't got the balls to finish the job? What, you've been anointed Grand Poobah of the Royal Order of Eunuchs? Do you think you can get away with that sort of crap just because you're the man? I have news for you. Women get a choice these days."

"You were saying no," he pointed out, speaking quickly. "I was trying to go along with what you wanted."

"What a load of crap," I yelled. "Of course I was saying no. You were raping me. What would you expect me to say? Did my saying no worry you when you were chewing on my breasts? How about when you were tickling my ovaries from the inside? Did my saying no stop you from chewing on my pussy like a dog with a new bone? Not that I noticed. Then when you've got me worked up and resigned to what's going to happen you try to back off? How dare you?"

George looked somewhat stunned. It served him right. The nerve of the man. Then I was probably looking somewhat stunned as instead of being on the bed next to me he'd rolled over and was lying on me, his weight supported by his hands, admittedly, but still on me.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"Conceding that you have a point. I had no right to try and stop just because you didn't want to make love. I'm now rectifying that."

When he'd rolled onto me he'd pushed my legs further apart and was now settled between them. That cock that I'd been holding (Yes, I was still holding it. I'd just forgotten to let go was all.) was snatched out of my hand and I could now feel it pressing against my lower tummy.

I was frantically yelling, "wait, wait, wait," while a little voice was telling me that I was an idiot with a loud mouth.

"No, no," George tells me. "You were right and I was wrong and I see no reason to delay things any longer."

He lifted his behind into the air and I could feel his erection dragging across me as he did so. My hands were on his chest, trying to push him off, which was a lamentable choice of tasks. I'd have done better using them to cover my pussy. As it was, his hand was down there covering it, and as he spread his hand I could feel his fingers parting and he was parting my lips at the same time.

I could feel the head of his cock pushing into position and while I'm searching for the right thing to say he pushed and just like that he was sliding into me. I guess all the teasing he'd been doing earlier had had an effect as he seemed to have no trouble entering me. I gave a frantic little yelp as my virginity went by the way and then I could feel him going down the slippery slide that was my passage, filling it in all direction, pushing ever deeper into me.

So all of a sudden there I was, stark naked on the bed, legs spread, George on top of me, and his cock well and truly inside me.

"Well, that wasn't too bad, was it?" said George in a happy voice. "And you were probably worried that it would hurt."

"It did," I quickly pointed out. "Take it out."

"Don't be silly," he said. "If I did that you'd probably get all upset again and we wouldn't want that to happen, would we?"

Yes, we would, or at least I would, I thought mutinously, but I didn't say anything. No matter what I said I'd look like an idiot.

"Ah, I don't mean to sound condescending, but you do know what to do from this point on?" he asked.

I glared at him, because he sounded both condescending and amused. Of course I knew what to do. Hadn't he ever heard of Google? It tells you everything you need to know. I found out it told you a little too much when I did a little, ah, research into sex. (It pays to be well informed. It was something I'd need to know sometime. I just hadn't expected to need to know it quite this soon.)

He started moving on me, pulling back slowly and then pushing back in. I knew enough to reluctantly push towards him when he sank back in and oh, my, god, I had not expected that. The strangest sensations seemed to go into me. Yes, well, I knew I'd feel something different but knowing and actually experiencing are two different things. I gasped and when he pulled out for another thrust I wasn't quite so reluctant to meet him.

I suppose, all things considered, he was a caring lover. He took his time, slowly building up those strange feelings within me. I felt hot all over and I was getting hotter. George was caressing my breasts to the rhythm that his cock was conducting on my body, physical music that kept lifting me.

George didn't stay at the same slow pace with which he started. He gradually picked up some speed and was soon banging into me in fine style. I have to say I found the whole experience highly arousing and enjoyable (if you ignore little details like not being given a choice).

I was trying to keep my mouth shut while all this was going on. I mean, it wouldn't do to say something that might give George the idea that I approved of what he was doing. OK, I might have made a few extraneous noises as things progressed, but I couldn't help that, and I'm surethey weren't being taken as approval.

My excitement was rising and when I suggested that he go a little faster that wasn't by choice. It was just something I blurted out, not really listening to what I was saying. I did notice that he laughed when I said it and then he picked up the pace a little more.

Oh, god, things had got to a stage where I couldn't stand it. I was on fire, hot blood bubbling along my veins. I couldn't, I really couldn't, take much more of this. I didn't have to it turned out. George suddenly put on the pressure, bouncing on me as though I was a runaway trampoline.

I climaxed with a scream and George was jerking and bouncing and hosing me down internally so I guess he was climaxing too.

I just collapsed on the bed, too spent to move. I was aware of George moving away but I just didn't have the energy to say anything. I was quite surprised when he returned a few moments later with a warm wash-cloth and a towel. He wiped me off and patted me dry with the towel and then tucked me into bed.

"Go to sleep," he said quietly. "I'll see you in the morning."

I wanted to argue the point (probably from sheer perversity) but I was tired. I didn't even realise I was falling asleep until I was waking up next morning.

The first thing I remembered when I woke up was what had happened the night before. Possibly this is because George was sitting on the bed next to me.

"What?" I asked, giving him a cold look.

"Just doing a follow-up from last night," he said amiably.

This time my "What?" was a highly puzzled one.

"Last night was your first time," he reminded me. "You do know that your first time should be followed up with another session as soon as possible? I thought it only proper that I come in and help you out."

I knew no such thing. Nothing in sex education had even hinted at such a thing. I'll admit that in the few pornos I'd seen the girls seemed willing to do it a dozen times in quick succession but I didn't think a second bout was obligatory.

"You're kidding me," I said in a disbelieving voice.

"No, it's true," he assured me. "Of course if you've got a boyfriend who will be willing to help you out I'll say no more. You can wander over to see him."

Tell my boyfriend that I'd been fucked by the father of the kid I was sitting and I needed him to give me a follow up? That'd be the day I did a stunt like that. Besides, I didn't currently have a boyfriend, or at least not one that I was going to drop my panties for. I just stared dumbly at George, trying to read his mind. He was having me on, I was a hundred percent sure of it. OK, ninety nine percent sure. What if he was telling the truth? How could I find out?

"Um, no boyfriend from the look on your face," George murmured. "Don't let it worry you. I don't mind helping you."

At the same time he was speaking he was flipping the covers off me and I was still naked. His hand covered a breast and he started stroking it.

"Jenny," I said quickly, and he just shook his head.

"Don't worry about her," he told me. "She won't wake up for another hour or so. Roll over onto your tummy."

I rolled over, mainly because George rolled me. He lifted my bottom up into the air, shoving my knees under me so I was crouched there, head down, bum up. His hand closed over my mound and he started rubbing me.

"You'll find that you're more receptive this morning," he told me, continuing to rub me intimately. "While a lot of foreplay is nice you won't really need it this morning."

I had to admit he was right about that. I was already feeling hot and wet and my arousal seemed to be just leaping to life. Maybe he was right about that second time. My reactions certainly seemed to indicate it was so.

"You'll find that your body knows what it wants," he said as he moved around to kneel behind me. "I'll be moving a lot faster this time, with no real need for a slow build-up. You'll be surprised how fast you adapt to this."

I was all confused, trying to find a way to tell him to back off, that once was once too many, but his cock was touching me, pressing against me, and then it was driving firmly into me and I, to my surprise, was pushing just as firmly back to meet it and take it deep. It only seemed to take a moment before his testicles were slapping against my mound.

From there things seemed to go pretty much as they had the night before with a few minor changes. George skipped the slow build-up and had me bouncing hard and fast. Also the change of position made it feel different (but still exciting) and the slapping of his body against my bottom was almost like being spanked. (Was it wrong of me to wonder what it would be like to be spanked and then fucked? Not that I wanted that to happen - just wondering.)

It seemed to me there must be a correlation between how fast a man moves and how fast the girl gets aroused. Last night had been a slow wind-up that got me aroused just as slowly. This time he hit the ground running, you might say, and my arousal was sprinting along to keep up with him.

With his arms around me he was holding my breasts tight, not playing with them so much as holding onto them, probably to make sure he didn't bounce me right off his cock, he was banging in that hard and fast.

Was I suggesting that he slow down a little, take it easy and then build up to a crescendo? Not so you would notice. I seemed to just be going, "ah, ah, ah, yes, yes, yes" and doing my best to match him.

He hurried me along, determinedly pushing me towards a climax, and I was not doing anything to stop it happening.

He suddenly acted as though he'd received an electric shock, jerking spasmodically, and I felt that warm gush inside me as he climaxed, and that was all I needed to blow up as well.

He left me to take a shower (god knows I needed one) and get dressed. I just couldn't help thinking deep thoughts while in the shower. Thoughts like was he serious about having to have a second time so quickly after the first time? How could I find out? Imagine asking someone about it. They'd think I was nuts, especially if he had lied to me, which I think he might have. Other thoughts arose. Did he rape me the previous night or not? I mean, he did try to stop and I was rather rude about it so maybe that could be considered as giving him permission. Not that I had, mind you, but still. Also, if he lied, did that make this morning's session rape?

All these questions and not a soul I could ask about them. It seemed to me that having a sex life was going to be very confusing. Interesting though.