BabySitter's Instruction

I'm a single father. I have been for a couple of years now since my wife died in a car accident. Rough on me but rougher on the kids and I've tried to make it up to them. I still manage to get out occasionally, having a babysitter in for the night. I always try to get a sitter who's eighteen or older. They tend to have their own cars and I don't need to worry about running them home.

I had a young lass by the name of Cathy, tonight. She was new to me. My regular sitters were both otherwise occupied and they'd suggested I try Cathy. They assured me she was superb with children, twenty, had her own car and would suit me down to the ground.

I'd rung Cathy and given her the names of my other two sitters as references and she'd agreed to sit for me on Friday night which meant I could shoot through for a few hours.

Cathy had fronted up as required and almost from the start I realised something was hinky. I'd introduced myself, telling her to call me Kurt. She'd nodded and still addressed me as Mr Roberts and then asked where my wife was. I explained I was a widower and I'll swear she took two steps away from me. What the hell? Being a widower wasn't something contagious.

The kids were already in bed, just not asleep. I took Cathy around and introduced her so they knew who was in the house, and she was absolutely charming with them. Me, on the other hand, not quite so charming. I could see a whip and a chair being held up between us when-ever I spoke to her.

However, she didn't have to be madly in love with me to look after the kids so I shrugged off her odd manner and faded out of the scene.

I had an enjoyable night out. I had a couple of drinks, but only a couple, and I spun those out. I had to drive home and I was well aware of the cops and their breathalysers.

I finally arrived home and let myself in. The kids were sound asleep, snoring their little heads off. Ditto Cathy. The TV was on and Cathy had zonked off watching it. I turned the TV off and gently shook Cathy's shoulder. Cathy opened her eyes, focused on me and Jesus Christ, she flipped.

I kid you not. As soon as she realised that I was home and standing close to her she squealed, practically did a backflip scrambling behind the couch and if she'd been wearing a cross she'd have been holding it up to fend me off.

"Don't you touch me," she squealed. "I know my rights. You can't touch me if I say you can't."

I blinked. The woman was certifiable.

"Cathy," I said calmly, "all I did was touch your shoulder to wake you up. There's nothing wrong with that."

"That's just the start. Mother had told me about men like you. No woman of your own and preying on girls like me. I won't have it. I just won't."

"Cathy, I'm going to the kitchen to have a cup of coffee. I suggest you have one, too. You can sit on the other side of the table from me where you're out of reach and I can't jump on you."

I walked through to the kitchen and put on the kettle and got down a couple of mugs. While I was making the coffee Cathy came creeping into the kitchen, making sure she stayed on the other side of the table to me. I was horribly tempted to turn and yell 'BOO' just to see if she'd scream and run, but decided that she just might.

I passed Cathy a mug and put the milk and sugar near her so she could help herself and then I settled onto a chair. Cathy sat across the table, sipping her coffee and looking at me dubiously.

"OK, Cathy," I said. "If I'm going to rely on you as a sitter I have to know what your hang-up is. Ever since you found out I'm a widower you've treated me as though I was a contagious disease. Do you treat all fathers this way?"

Cathy bit her lip and shook her head.

"So explain. What is the problem? What did your mother say about men like me?"

"Um, mum warned me that fathers would try to seduce me if I wasn't careful and to be sure I was never alone with them. She said I shouldn't ever sit for single fathers. She says they get desperate and if they can't seduce me they'll try to rape me and I have to be really careful around them."

Figures, I thought, an over-protective mother filling her head with horror stories.

"Tell me, Cathy, how many fathers have made a pass at you?"

She blinked and looked at me reproachfully.

"None, of course," she said. "I've always been careful."

"Of course," I said. "So no seductions by horny fathers."

Cathy blushed, but agreed.

"So, moving right along, how many fathers have raped you, single or with spouse."

"None," she protested. "I'd never permit that."

"Ah, Cathy, it's the lack of permission that makes it rape," I pointed out.

"So I suppose that the only time you've been seduced or raped it's been with your permission and by a boyfriend or someone you know well."

"What are you talking about?" Cathy protested, obviously insulted and highly indignant. "I've never been seduced or raped."

"So you're still a virgin?" I asked.

She nodded, surprised that I would think otherwise.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why?" she said.

"Yes, why?" I repeated. "Understandable at eighteen, an oddity at nineteen but distinctly strange behaviour at age twenty. You are twenty aren't you?"

Cathy was giving me indignant looks now. No-one likes being told that their behaviour is odd. I could see her groping for an answer that would satisfy me.

"Mum warned me about sex," she finally said. "She told me I wouldn't enjoy it. Men are a bit brutal where women are concerned."

"Ah, I see," I said, nodding in understanding. "You're still too immature to make up your own mind."

Cathy looked as though I'd slapped her, and she didn't know what to say. To fill in time I rose, picked up our empty mugs and put them on the sink. Then I reached for my wallet and extracted her agreed wages for the night and passed it over to her.

As I was opening the front door to see her out she finally found her voice.

"I am not immature," she snapped at me.

"Really?" I said, goading her. "Well, the door is open and your car is just there so you'll be free to panic, scream and run. Now I'm going to cup one of your breasts. Tell me what you think, unless, of course, you're running for dear life."

Suiting action to words I did precisely that, reaching for and cupping her breast, lifting it slightly to judge the weight of it, squeezing it slightly as I did so. When she didn't immediately push my hand away and bolt I moved my thumb, seeking and finding the nipple. A gentle movement and I could feel it hardening under my touch.

I took my hand away, and grinned at her. She was still looking at her breast, a slightly stunned expression on her face. She looked up at me, opened her mouth, closed her mouth, turned and walked to her car, got in and drove away. I went to bed, smiling. She had a very nice breast. I wanted to see it.

- - -

The next morning I rang Cathy and explained that something had come up and I needed a sitter that night. Would she be available? She hesitated, but accepted, but I could almost smell her nerves jangling.

When she arrived it was plain we were back to square one. I was a potential seducer or rapist and she needed to stay out of my reach. I kept my distance and left her playing with the kids. Once the kids were actually in bed I departed before Cathy even had a chance to start worrying.

I was back about ten, explaining to Cathy that my business was completed and how about a cup of coffee. Cathy joined me in the kitchen, carefully keeping the table between us. We had our coffee and some idle chitchat, during which I picked up a few more clues to the sort of nonsense Cathy's mother filled her ears with.

After the coffee I leaned back and started to continue my intended course of instruction on real life.

"You didn't actually tell me how it felt," I observed out of the blue.

Cathy wasn't dumb. She knew precisely what I meant, but she was in denial.

"I don't know what you mean," she huffed.

I got up and slowly moved around the table to her. She was nervous but I think that immature crack was still needling her, and she sat fast.

"I squeezed your breast like this, last night," I said, repeating the offence, "and you were supposed to tell me how it felt."

After brushing her nipple with my thumb I released her and leaned back, being almost offensively non-threatening.

Cathy was blushing and not looking at me.

"I don't know," she muttered. "Odd."

"Odd," I said musingly. "Odd nasty or odd nice?"

"I don't know," she muttered, still not looking at me.

"Then why don't you take some time to consider it," I said, and cupped her breast again.

This time I left my hand there while gently squeezing, my thumb idly rolling her nipple around. Cathy sat there staring at my hand as though it was a large hairy spider on her blouse.

After a few moment I moved my hand over to her other breast, but instead of cupping and squeezing I just let a single finger trail over it, stopping and pressing lightly when I found her nipple.

"Well?" I said coaxingly.

"You shouldn't be doing that," Cathy protested.

"Possibly not, but until you can decide one way or the other. . ." My voice trailed off.

Cathy swallowed.

"OK. Nice," she said, "but you have to stop."

I did, leaning back again.

"Have you noticed something else?" I asked her.

She blinked and shook her head.

"Even though I touched your breast I haven't frantically pounced on you to try to seduce or rape you."

That earned me a dirty look.

"I never said you were going to do that," she protested.

"Just acted it," I murmured, scoring a furious look that time.

"Do you know what I'm going to do now?" I asked her, and she shook her head. Of course not. The poor girl had no idea.

"I am going to undo your blouse and then I'm going to lift your bra away from your breasts," I told her and she went pale.

"After that," I continued, "I'm going to sit back and admire your quite lovely figure. You on the other hand will be putting your bra back on and doing up your blouse and preparing to go home."

With that I started undoing her buttons, taking my time and giving Cathy ample time to protest. She just sat there frozen, watching me, apparently unable to believe I was actually doing this.

With her buttons undone I opened the front of her blouse, spreading it wide. Cathy was wearing a very light lacy bra, more for decoration than support. There was no need for me to reach around and undo it. I just hooked my fingers under the sides and tugged lightly upwards, and Cathy's pert little breasts popped into view.

They were luscious, and I really wanted to take hold of them, touch them, tease them, bite them.

Instead I sat back and admired them.

"You have lovely breasts, you know," I said quietly, while Cathy just sat there staring at me. "They're like two little cupola's, gleaming white with a tantalizing red cherry on the tip of them. Your nipples are standing proud, asking for me touch them."

Cathy still made no move to cover up, so I gave a mental shrug and reached over to flick her nipple. I didn't quite get to do it. Cathy gave a little squeal and hastily dragged her bra back down over them and started doing up her blouse.

I stood up and moved away a little, then she was standing and hurrying to leave. She was still blushing furiously when I showed her out the door.

- - -

I rang Cathy again next morning and asked her to come and sit. She dithered for a few moments and then agreed.

I'd arranged for Cathy to come a little early so she was able to spend some time playing with the kids before tucking them in. She was surprised to find me still there when she came back downstairs. She was even more surprised when she found I had no intention of going out.

"Why am I here if you're not going anywhere?" she wanted to know.

"You're here because I want to talk to you," I told her. "You'll have noticed that the kids are wide awake and likely to be so for some time."

Cathy nodded and I continued.

"Then if you feel threatened by my behaviour at any stage all you have to do is scream and there will be little children scrambling all over the place trying to find out what's going on. You may consider them your chaperons."

"What makes you think that I think I'll need a chaperon?" Cathy demanded.

"Because I'm going to take your top off and I know that makes you nervous," I calmly replied.

Cathy was still blinking and trying to make sense of what I'd said when I tugged her top loose from her jeans and lifted it up and over her head. This time I did unhook her bra so that I could take it right off, and Cathy was topless before she fully understood my intentions.

She blushed furiously, hands covering her breasts, but she didn't resist too strongly when I gently moved them away.

"Don't get in a panic," I told her. "Remember, one scream and children will come running. This is just the same as yesterday and I didn't seduce you then and I won't be seducing you today. I just want you to consider what I'm doing and tell me how it feels."

I took it slowly, gentling her breasts, touching them lightly, hands never staying still long enough for her to worry and panic. My fingers lightly grazed across the under-swell of her breasts and I could hear her catching her breath. I cupped her breasts, my palms gently rolling her nipples around, and then I transferred my thumbs to her nipples while continuing to tease them.

Cathy was breathing hard, eyes half closed, watching my hands teasing her breasts, half wanting to protest but enjoying what I was doing. The whole exercise was interesting and non-threatening from her point of view.

After a while I turned on the TV to one of the shows that Cathy had mentioned she watches and just let her relax next to me watching, but still topless. My arm was around her, cupping one breast and idly teasing it, keeping her very much aware of her breasts.

When some ads started I pulled Cathy closer, bending her backwards across my lap. Bending down I lightly sucked on one nipple and then the other. Cathy gave a sort of strangled shriek and her hands tangled in my hair, not pulling, just tangled there.

My hand, meanwhile, had sort of drifted down along her leg and was idly massaging Cathy. I wasn't rubbing against her pussy, more like along her leg and possible dipping around to caress her inner thighs, but if she wasn't dreadfully aware of where my hand wasn't I'd have been surprised.

Altogether we spent a comfortable couple of hours, chatting, watching TV and indulging in some light petting. I also arranged for her to come over the next night.

The next several nights passed the same way. Some TV, some partial nudity on Cathy's part, some light petting and a wandering hand. The only significant difference was the wandering hand as its explorations were becoming more adventurous. When it finally started rubbing Cathy's mound I felt her give a little start, but then she pretended not to notice.

The next day, however, instead of wearing her ubiquitous jeans she was wearing a skirt.

I both accepted and declined the silent invitation. My hand certainly went exploring more easily, and it was even possible that my fingers may have trespassed on some naked flesh by slipping past the edge of Cathy's panties, but I made no effort to remove them.

At the end of that night Cathy was breathing a great deal harder than she had been on other occasions when she took her leave.

The next night I didn't hesitate. Instead of going through our teasing little ritual of taking off her top I moved Cathy until she was standing in front of me. Then I lifted her skirt and drew her panties down, and she lifted her feet and stepped out of them, blushing fiercely.

With her panties gone Cathy couldn't really protest when the rest of her clothes followed, and soon she was lying naked in my arms and I was indulging in some pretty intense explorations of her body.

My mouth teased her breasts while my fingers stroked and dipped, sliding into her and then out again, agitating and building up her desires, but always holding them relatively low key. I would build her up to a point where she was starting to writhe about and then I'd let her settle down again, with the final result being that she was soon hot and wet and ready for anything I wanted to do.

There was still a way to go though. I suspected that if I unzipped and produced an erection all her inhibitions could easily come flooding back. Far better to let her produce my erection in her own good time.

I did unzip, but then all I did was press her hand against me and go back to my explorations and teasing.

Several times Cathy moved her hand away from where I'd placed it, but after a while it would come creeping back, feeling me through the material. Finally there was a tentative movement and her hand slipped past my open fly and settled on my erection.

Cathy's hand close around me and held me for a second or two, and then her hand hastily departed. I didn't comment, just letting her take her own time.

Her hand came back, and it was no longer tentative. It slipped past my fly and closed on me, and then started exploring. Her fingers ran up my cock, fumbling around the head to my intense discomfort, and then back down along the shaft.

I relaxed, letting her do what she wanted, and very soon she pulled me free and looked at my erection.

Sitting there, holding my erection in my hand, I think it finally dawned on Cathy what was going on and what the end play would be if she didn't stop it.

"You're seducing me, aren't you?" she accused me.

"I am," I told her. "Is it working?"

She didn't answer that, instead turning her attention back to my erection, which she was still holding.

"You don't really think I'd let you put something like this inside me, do you?" she asked.

"Eventually," I said.

"But just look at it," she cried. "It's huge. It wouldn't fit."

"Actually, I suspect that you'll find it's average," I said, flattered at her description. OK, maybe a little larger than average, but not really huge. It did the job, though.

For someone who was protesting about proposed seduction and the size of my erection Cathy seemed strangely reluctant to let it go. Ah, well. There comes a time that you have to tell the girl to lie down and smile because you're going to fuck her.

"Cathy, we have both been working to this point for a while. You may only just have verbalised what's happening, but you've been aware of it. Now I don't want you to think I'm taking unfair advantage of you so let me put it this way."

I pointed to the rug that was in front of my fireplace.

"Lie down there and spread your legs. I'm going to take your virginity and fuck your brains out."

Cathy's mouth dropped open and she just gaped at me.

It was a case of "What? You! Well I never. You can't say something like that. I wouldn't ever. I won't," and finishing up with an explosive "How could you?"

While she was spluttering and trying to express an opinion I was freeing myself from her grip, standing up and drawing Cathy to a stand as well.

I moved over to the rug and settled down onto it, again drawing Cathy along with me. By the time she had finished spluttering she found herself lying on the rug.

I hooked an ankle across hers and drew her legs apart, and then I was kneeling between her thighs. Cathy seemed to be searching for something to say but finished up saying nothing, just swallowing and staring down at my cock which was hovering just above her pussy.

"You're a virgin," I said quietly, "so you may find my initial entry hurts a little. Just bear with it and you'll find things get better."

"But I haven't said you can do this," Cathy half wailed. "This is rape. Mother was right. I can't trust you."

I almost groaned. Her blasted mother.