BabySitter vs Machismo

Baby-sitting can be a fun job. You become part of a family for a short while but, and it's a big but, you're in a position of authority where the children are concerned. The parents can be a bit over-bearing at times but that's just one of the things you have to put up with.

On Friday evening I was sitting for Heather and John McKay. They're a nice enough couple, generally reasonable in anything they want you to do, although John could be a bit of a stickler for having his rules followed. I tend to regard rules more as guidelines than the letter of the law.

Heather was a brunette, nice figure, I guess, and a pleasing manner. John was a small man. Well, not actually small. Um, height challenged, maybe? He was only about five foot six tall but he was solid. He looked as though he'd been carved out of a piece of rock, and granite at that. He wasn't as tall as the refrigerator but I was willing to bet that he could pick up that fridge and walk off with it.

It turned out that John and Heather weren't going out together. Heather was attending a baby shower with a group of her friends and John was attending a meeting at the local football club. They eventually departed in separate cars. I'll swear that as John was driving away he was still spouting off about his rules and how I had to make sure the kids obeyed them. It apparently went without saying that I'd obey them. Yeah, like that was going to happen. I'd do what I thought was correct.

For some reason the kids were proving fractious. I finished up letting them bring some toys into the front room so they could play there. (Against the rules. Children should play in the playroom. They're children, for god's sake. Not little soldiers.) For a while they were quite happy with the novelty of playing in the front room and then they became fractious again.

I spoke sharply to Susan and to my surprise she just burst into tears. From previous experience I'd have thought she'd be willing to argue the point but no, instant tears. Brad, her little brother, promptly burst into tears as well.

I sat down on the couch, cuddling them, talking softly while I tried to determine what was wrong. After a while I noticed that even though they had stopped crying they were both slightly flushed.

It turned out that they were both a bit off-colour, probably colds developing or one of those things that kids get. Here today and gone tomorrow. I decided that the best thing for them was an early night and a good sleep to help them throw it off.

The lack of argument when I told them it was time for bed underscored my decision. Apart from Susan pointing out they had to clean their toys up before they could go to bed they had no complaints about doing so. I told them to leave the toys as they were now my responsibility and I would put them away. With that they both went to bed like lambs and fell asleep very fast. I made a mental note to warn Heather that they might be unwell come the morning.

When I was satisfied that they were both dead to the world and unlikely to wake up I returned to the front room and turned on the TV, settling down to watch it for a while. I figured I had ample time to clean up the toys before John or Heather returned.

I figured wrong, didn't I. John returned long before I expected him and there were toys all over the front room.

I knew he was going to complain so I rose to my feet. If we were going to argue at least he wouldn't be towering over me. Maybe I caught being fractious off the kids. Whatever the reason I wasn't going to back down one inch.

"Why are there toys in the room?" John asked. Politely enough, I suppose, but in my mood it came across as a complaint.

"Because the floor in the play room consists of cold tiles. I thought that it would be warmer for them here."

"The house is air conditioned," John pointed out. "Both rooms are the same temperature."

"But it seems warmer in here." I stated.

"You do know that one of our rules is that the children should play in the playroom. That's what it's for."

I shrugged. "Only an idiot blindly follows rules," I said. "I tend to use a little common sense, myself."

That went down like a lead balloon. The man had no sense of humour where his precious rules were concerned. He tried to argue his point and I cheerfully agreed with each point he raised, while at the same time letting him know I was just humouring him. He was starting to get rather irritated.

"All that aside, why are the toys still here in the front room?" he wanted to know. "The children know they have to tidy up their toys as soon as they finish playing with them."

There was that fractious side of me coming out again.

"Why should they?" I asked. "They're just kids."

"It's the household rule," he reminded me, sounding as though he'd like to yell at me.

"Yes, yes," I said. "Ah, can you keep your voice down. I don't want you waking them."

"I was not yelling," he said and I'm sure he was gritting his teeth.

"If you say so," I agreed, doubt plain in my voice.

"You're avoiding the question," he pointed out. "Why didn't they pick up their toys?"

"Because I told them not to," I explained, quite forgetting to mention that the kids had been a little off-colour. "I told them I'd pick them up."

"So why haven't they been picked up?"

"Because I haven't done it yet," I said, speaking slowly, the word 'der' unspoken but easy to hear.

"The house rules," he started but I interrupted.

"Yes, yes, I know," I pointed out. "You've been all through that."

"Several times," I added thoughtfully.

"But it doesn't seem to have sunk into your miniscule brain," he snapped, starting to get personal.

"You're not the boss of me," I said softly, the same way kids say it when they don't want to do what I tell them to do. It always irritates me and I promptly get an 'oh, really?' attitude. I figured John would probably react the same way, not that he could do much.

He did. He gave me a very nasty look.

"If you were my daughter you'd be over my knee about now," he told me, and it certainly sounded as though he meant it.

"Wow," I said with a big smile. "Somehow I doubt that. I am eighteen, after all. You'll have to find another way to display your machismo."

Geez, he was almost sulphurous, not that there was anything he could do. He couldn't even not hire me again because Heather wouldn't be in it. I was reliable and really good with the kids and she knew it.

I just stood there smiling politely. I'm pretty sure I wasn't smirking at him but I guess my smile could have been taken that way. He lost his temper. Not in a screaming mad sort of way but just in a coldly determined way.

He took hold of my arm, spun me around so I was facing the arm of the couch, and gave me a push. I gave a small squeal as I found myself lurching forward, grabbing hold of the couch to stop myself falling face down onto it. Maybe I'd have been better off doing that.

He lifted my skirt, grabbed hold of my panties, and down they went. I was all 'oh my god' thinking that he really was going to spank me.

"Don't you even think of spanking me," I yelled, and he laughed.

"Oh, I think my machismo can do better than that," he told me, and I found his knee pressing between my legs, forcing them further apart.

I was back to the 'oh my god' stage one more, this time deciding that the brute was going to start groping me. It turned out I was still under-estimating the total depravity of the man.

I felt his hand settle on my pussy right enough, but all he did was move his fingers apart, spreading my lips at the same time. I'd barely opened my mouth to protest this dastardly assault on my sweet innocent personage (well, mostly innocent) when I felt something pressing where he'd parted my lips, and no man alive had fingers as big as what was touching me. Even Andre the Giant's fingers would have been smaller than my current threat.

Just like that his cock started pushing its way into me. No 'excuse me' or 'do you mind', just bam, and it was on its way. I screamed the entire time it was forcing its way into me and they made it a very long scream. I couldn't believe a man as short as John could have such a long cock. And fat, too. I couldn't help thinking that his cock was probably the biggest limb on his body.

(Oh, by the way, that screaming. I was fully aware that the children were sleeping, and possibly a little ill, so I couldn't risk waking them up. That meant that my scream of protest as John showed his total depravity had to be rather quiet. It was so not the cry of appreciation which he promptly claimed it to be.)

"Liked that, did you?" he asked as his testicles slapped against my mound. "And just think, it's going to get even better."

With that he hauled my top up out of my skirt and pushed it up, collecting my bra and pushing that up as well, resulting in my breasts popping free, to be immediately latched onto by greedy hands.

"Seeing you're wanting me to display my machismo," he said, "I think I should warn you that I'm going to give it free rein. You'll find that means you'll be bouncing on my cock quite energetically. I do hope you'll be able to keep up with me."

That was the only warning I got. He started moving, going straight into overdrive, his cock banging away like nobody's business. I don't know about bouncing off his cock but I was certainly bouncing along it. He'd come driving in at a great rate and I'd feel his groin slap against me, which was the signal for me to change direction and go sliding down his cock the other way.

I was going wow, wow, wow, as he bounced me, trying to move with him but my efforts were getting lost in the rush. All I could do was hang on and ride for dear life. At the same time his 'machismo' was insisting that he try to maul my breasts to death. His hands were all over them, becoming better acquainted with them than any other man ever had.

I suppose to give a more accurate depiction of what was going on I have to point out that I was bent over the arm of the couch, so I wasn't actually riding him. I was more pinned there while his cock plunged into me. Probably a better way of doing things from his point of view because I'm quite sure I could never have matched his performance if I'd been on top.

Quite frankly I'd never suspected that I could get so excited, so fast. I had absolutely no control on what was happening and I found I didn't want any. I found it absolutely fantastic to be used in this way, and used is the only way to describe it. He was in charge and he was letting me know it.

I, rather naively, assumed that with all this frenetic activity the session wouldn't last long. It turned out that John had the stamina and the balls of a bull and he just kept on going.

I was giving little gasping cries and trying to stay with him and I was quite relieved when I felt a climax coming on. I silently cheered it along, then tried to keep my mouth shut as it rolled over me. (Not wanting to wake the kids. Remember?)

Right, I thought. That's that and he'll now slow down and I can tell him just what I think of his appalling behaviour. Slow down hell. I don't think he even noticed that I'd climaxed. He just kept going, his speed not slackening at all. I remember thinking that by the time he was finished my pussy would have been tenderised in the same way a steak is done. Beaten to a pulp by a meat hammer.

There was an immediate let down right after my climax with all my excitement ebbing away. Not that it had much chance of staying away, not with John's machismo deep inside me, working hard to coax that excitement back. First it peeked out, and then it returned in a rush, and I was once again being carried away by John's energetic eagerness.

I guess he must have established some sort of rhythm to keep going the way he was but I'd been too wrapped up in the effect he was having on me to really notice how he was doing it. It was happening and that had really been all I cared about. Now it was happening again and I was swiftly losing interest in the whys and wherefores. I simply yielded happily, letting him have his wicked way.

My next climax came wandering along and as it approached I noticed a slight change to the way John was acting. He actually seemed to be moving faster, which I wouldn't have thought possible. I thought he'd started just as hard and as fast as he could and kept going. Apparently not. He'd kept a little in reserve and now he was letting me have it.

Once again I wanted to shriek my fool head off as I climaxed and once again I had to stifle my screams because of the kids. As it was I shuddered and shook and went into a blissful state and remained like that for a moment.

I was aware of John leaving me but at that point I didn't give a damn.

I suddenly became acutely aware of how I looked. I mean, I was lying over the arm of the couch with my skirt tucked around my waist. My bottom was shining under the lights, because my panties were down around one ankle. My top was pushed up over my breasts, tucked under my arms, and my bra was up there with it.

I guess my appearance was not the sort of thing that Heather wanted to observe when she walked into the room.

I hastily stood up and started straightening my clothes, rapidly explaining everything to Heather as I went.

"Um, the kids were feeling off-colour so I put them to bed early. I think they'll be OK tomorrow but they may be coming down with something so you might like to keep an eye on them," I said quickly. "Um, I didn't make them tidy up because they were feeling too tired and I promised them I'd clean up. Ah, John was just demonstrating what happens when you break the rules."