Emma's Summer Babysitting Job

"Or let him tie you up?" I could see she thought I was crazy. "You know, during ... sex."

"Sex?" I nodded. "Why, did you let someone tie you up?" I shook my head no. "You tied someone up?" Again I signaled no. "Like that Marquis de Sadism guy?" she asked.

"I only saw it by accident."

"Saw what? On the internet?" I'd definitely captured her attention.

"She'd attached him to the four corners of her bed. With handcuffs. He was on his stomach like we are but she'd put a big pillow under his stomach so that his bum was up in the air. Like this," I added as I got on my knees. As Emma watched me I knew she couldn't help but see my cock hanging down. She was so engrossed in my tale that it didn't register.

"Who did it? Someone I know?"

"She'd stuffed a lemon in his mouth so he couldn't talk."

"A lemon?" Emma, grimacing, was horrified.

"I'd just gone over to their place to deliver one of mom's decorative bowls. It was just a few weeks ago. Mom had just finished it the weekend before. When she answered the door she was just wearing a negligee."

"Someone on the island?"

"I could see she was nervous but something else too. She was excited. Her ... nipples were--"

"Were what? Whose?"

"And then she invited me in. Said she'd just grab her purse from the bedroom ... that it'd just take a second to get me the money she owed mom."

"What happened?" Emma had unconsciously risen herself up on her elbows as I'd spoken, exposing almost all of her breasts.

"I heard her talking with someone when she was gone. Then when she finally came back out she left her bedroom door open. She put her purse on the dining room table. Then when she bent over to get her wallet out of it I could see--"

"See what?"

"Her breasts. Her nipples. She knew I was watching. She was smiling. I knew--"

"Knew what?"

"Then she looked right into my eyes. And then she turned slowly and looked back into her bedroom. I did too. I could see him. He was lying naked on his stomach, with his ass in the air. Mr. Thomas couldn't see me, he was turned away."

"Mr. and Mrs. Thomas?" Complete incredulity. I nodded. I watched Emma as she tried to assimilate the fact that people she'd known most of her life were doing these things. "But they're so normal," she protested. In her excitement she'd turned her body and rolled onto her side, completely exposing herself to me. Her blond pubes.

"Then she leaned over and whispered in my ear, 'would you like to watch'."

"She did not! Did you?" Emma asked breathlessly. I nodded. "What did they do?"

"It was weird. I watched from the doorway. She attached this thing to herself. Then she got up on the bed ... behind him."

"What did she attach?" Emma asked when I didn't go on.

"After she'd finished she blindfolded him."

"After she finished what?"

"Doing it. Then she came over and knelt down in front of me. She put me in her mouth."

"Your penis?" I nodded. "Oh my gawd! Mrs. Thomas gave you a blow job?"

"Then she led me over to the bed. She lay down on her husband's back. Then I--"

"You had sex with her?"

I nodded. "She kept yelling, 'fuck me baby, fuck me with your big teenage cock'. It was crazy. Mr. Thomas didn't even know who his wife was being fucked by."

"She should be shot. What a slut! They're animals." As Emma angrily spat out her denunciations of her neighbors I simply lay back and enjoyed her nudity.

"I'm definitely not going to go back," I offered when she'd finally quieted down.

"You certainly aren't," Emma agreed. "They're pigs. They should be reported to the police."

"Mom said everyone's different, that each of us has to find our own way. That if they weren't hurting anyone--"

"Their own fucking way?" Emma normally didn't use the 'f' word. "And you told your mom about them?"

"I tell her everything."

"Wasn't she mad at them?"

Of course we didn't get to talk about Nancy that afternoon. Emma, in her excitement, even forgot to ask about the married woman I'd lost my virginity to. It was only when I was dressed and ready to leave that she remembered my words from the previous week.

"You were going to tell me today about why my marriage caused you to lose your virginity," she said as I walked down the stairs.

"Next time," I promised.

"Next time? When?"

"Yeah, I really want to ask you what you think I should do about the baby."

"Baaaaaaybeeeeeeeeeee?"

Tuesday August 4th The grotto

The grotto had been formed sometime long in the islands geological past. Eons of wave action had cut first a cave under the cliffs at the very easternmost end of the island, then later had collapsed a part of the cliff. What had been left was a small lagoon, completely surrounded by fifteen foot high mini cliffs except for a three foot wide angled cut that let the ocean in. Given that mom owned the complete eastern tip of the island it had been and still remained our private secret. We'd always called it the grotto.

"We're leaving our clothes on today," Mrs. Pemberton-Smith announced the second we'd climbed down the steps that had been hacked roughly out of the rocks a hundred years ago and found ourselves on the beach. It had been almost a week since we'd had our last 'date'. Since my visit to Emma's house the Wednesday before I'd gone out with Nancy on Thursday, had spend Friday sailing, had gone to a teenagers beach bonfire party Saturday, and had spent most of Sunday hanging with my mom. Of course I'd seen Emma but we hadn't exchanged more than a few words. Mind you she and mom had spent about an hour together huddled in conversation on the beach Sunday afternoon. Mom reported to me that my old babysitter had been very interested in the sex life of her old charge.

I'd called her Monday afternoon. "If you're not busy we could go to the grotto tomorrow," I'd offered. After a variety of excuses, weak ones that she clearly hoped I'd not accept, she'd agreed. Emma loved the grotto.

"Yes Emma," I agreed to her clothing demand, using a five year old boy's voice. The voice of my youth.

"You think you're funny, don't you." Emma was smiling.

Once I'd dropped the folding beach chairs, the towels, the diving equipment and other assorted beach items I'd toted onto the warm sand, I simply stood up and then quickly shucked my shorts.

"You're terrible. You said you wouldn't." But there was no anger in her words. And she clearly hadn't checked me down below before she'd spoken.

"It's your fault."

"Everything's my fault according to you." I didn't have to answer because her next words told me she'd finally let her eyes drop. "Ohhhh myyy Gaaawd!"

"What?" I asked innocently.

"You're ... you're shaved," she stammered out. She was staring now.

"She asked me to."

"Who did?"

"I didn't really want to."

"It looks ... I mean it makes you look like a... was it Mrs. Thomas?"

"Nancy," I said softly. Then I bent down and grabbed the tube of sunscreen. After undoing the top I offered it to her. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"Married women don't touch shaven penises of little boys," she answered dismissively.

"You used to when I was young."

"I did not."

"There's a picture of you in one of mom's old albums showing you putting sunscreen on me. It was taken right here and I was naked."

"Hah, how old were you?"

"And both you and mom were naked too."

"Your mom's a nudist," Emma shot back. But she was watching my hand as I spread a big gob of cream over my cock.

"Look who's talking. There's not a tan line anywhere on your body," I accused.

"In private only," Emma responded. "Why'd she want you to shave it anyway?"

"Some girl thing. Does it look stupid?" I asked as I held my cock up in my hand.

"Yes. And it's certainly bigger than it used to be."

"Do you think it's too big?" Emma looked away.

"Have you ever let Clark shave you?" Emma shook her head no. "Has he ever asked you to shave?" She again shook her head no but this time a lot less convincingly.

"Liar."

"I'm not."

"I was a little nervous when she had the razor in her hand," I admitted as I continued to hold my penis up.

"When did she do it?" Emma was still watching.

"Thursday night. It's already starting to grow again. It feels rough, itchy," I said as I ran my fingers across the stubble that had emerged above my cock.

"It does?" Emma was clearly interested.

"Here, touch it," I offered as I reached for her hand.

"I shouldn't ... what if--" she started but then stopped when her fingers touched my stomach. Curious, she couldn't stop her hand from doing a complete pass over the shaven area. Then a second. My cock was bobbing excitedly in the air.

"I've either got to shave it again or let it grow out. What do you think I should do?" I asked as her hand lingered. She shook her head in indecision.

"I brought some shaving cream and a razor," I said, then bent over and reached into my knapsack.

"You did? To the beach?"

"Do you want to watch?" She didn't answer but of course she did. Which we both knew. "I'll get wet first," I told her then ran into the warm water. A minute later I was back, dripping water. I sat on my towel and picked up the shaving cream.

"Do you want to have the honor of creaming me?" I asked as I held up the can. She was nodding her head no as I stuck the can of shaving cream into her palm. "You have to shake it first," I instructed.

"I know. I shave my legs, my underarms you doofus," she said as she started to shake the can. I lay back on my towel.

"Spray all around, everywhere."

The first spray, poorly aimed, splashed onto the inner part of my left thigh and down onto my balls. The second wasn't much more accurately delivered.

"It's in the way," Emma complained as she tried to use the can to move my penis, which was then fully erect and up against my stomach.

"Hold it out of the way," I suggested, feigning impatience. She looked for a second that she was going to say something, that she was going to refuse, but then instead tentatively moved her free hand toward my cock. Gingerly she grabbed it between her thumb and middle finger and slowly moved it to the side while aiming the shaving cream nozzle at the other side of my groin.

And that's the how and why of Mrs. Pemberton-Smith's first handling of the adult penis of Matthew Hopkins. Once started, a clearly fascinated Emma took her time applying the foamy white cream to my genitals. And before she'd finished the once tentative hold she'd had on me had turned into quite a firm palming. By the time she had finished a soapy Mr. Penis had felt more than ready to add his own foamy sperm to the mix. I did all I could to restrain him.

Emma pretended to have no interest in doing the actual shaving when I finally got around to asking her. "It's difficult to shave yourself, especially at this angle, I might cut myself," I'd complained as I offered her the razor.

"I don't want to ... it's really not right," the married woman replied as she accepted to razor, "but knowing you you'd probably cut it off." So again the young beauty took matters in hand so to speak, holding Mr. Penis both firmly and warmly, as she carefully shaved every little curling hair from my genitals.

I didn't cum during the procedure. I got very, very close but in the end I restrained myself. Somehow. Afterwards we swam together. And while we were frolicking in the gentle waves I managed to first, deftly remove her top, and then later her bottom.

She didn't really complain. And, once we were back on land and lying on our towels, it soon became clear that she welcomed the odd glance I tossed her way. In fact, instead of lying on her stomach she'd lain on her back. Nor did she complain when I rolled onto my side and simply looked down at her.

"So are you now finally ready to tell me about the married woman, the baby and why my marriage was to blame?" she finally asked.

"First I'm going to do something for my good buddy Clark," I answered.

"For Clark?"

"Something I know he's always wanted."

"What?" In answer I reached for the can of shaving cream.

"Oh no you're not." Emma, quick as a cat, tried to escape. I caught her left ankle at the last second. As she tried to squirm away I caught her other ankle.

"I don't want you to."

"It'll grow back."

Emma stopped struggling. Instead she lay back. "What'll Clark say?"

"Tell him you did it because you know he's going to win the Golf Championship this weekend." Clark, after beating me, had had to wait to find out his opponent in the finals. The match had now been set for the following Saturday. "That you love him so much that you wanted to inspire him to his greatest victory." I let go of Emma's legs as I spoke and reached again for the can. Instead of moving away she spread her legs wider.

"It's beautiful," I said as I placed myself on my knees between hers.

"What is?" she asked.

"Your blond curls, your pretty pink pussy," I answered as I ran my fingers lovingly through her pubic hairs.

"You'll have to be careful," she warned as I brought the can's nozzle to her sex. I aimed the first foamy emission right at the pink clitoris that was sitting erect in all its glory at the top of her exposed opening.

I was extremely careful. Softly, almost caressingly, I moved the razor over her silken skin. I used my free hand to protect her sex as the stainless steel blade cleared away, hair by hair, the blond jungle. While the blade worked its magic the middle finger of my other hand gently slid back and forth from her clitoris to the channel below. I caressed, I didn't penetrate.

Afterwards I lifted her up into my arms and waded out into the water.

"I look like a little girl," Emma complained minutes later when I'd finished washing the soapy lather from her body and we'd exited the sea.

"You look beautiful."

"What if Clark doesn't like it?" she asked as inspected herself, spreading the lips of her pussy as she looked down at it.

"He'll think he's made a hole-in-one," I said as I sat back down on my knees on the towel. "C'mon here, let me see it."

"See what?" she asked but she still walked over towards me, only stopping when her shaven mound was inches from my face.

I looked up into her eyes. Then back down. Then back up. "Closer," I ordered as I slid my hands up the outside of her legs, stopping only when I had both of her cheeks in my palms, She didn't resist as I pulled her shaven bareness against my face. Then I tasted her.

Some men don't like going down on a woman. Those are men who've never eaten someone like Emma. Fresh, clean, aromatic and moist, juicy pussy is a treat to all ones senses. A highly sexed man's touch and smell and sight and taste are all aroused when he sups between the legs of a beautiful woman.

My cock raged in impatience as I ate her.

Emma orgasm-ed quickly the first time. I kept eating and sucking and licking and tasting her until a second, a much more cataclysmic one, exploded outward from her center. Her cries of ecstasy echoed around between the cliffs as I lapped up her sexual emissions.

***

"We shouldn't have done that, it was wrong." Emma was lying on her back, legs splayed, the lips of her pussy engorged and open, her breath still coming in small, urgent gasps, when she said those words. The sweet aroma of her orgasm still hovered in the air.

"I'm married." I didn't answer, instead simply rocked back a little. I was still on my knees between her legs. "It was my fault as much as yours," she admitted. "Who taught you to do that anyway?" I let her talk.

"I'm lucky it was you. If it hadn't been I don't know what would have happened--" Her voice trailed off. Her eyes left mine and curved downward towards my cock.

"What do you think would have happened?' I encouraged.

"If you weren't my very best friend you would have done things ... I know you would have. Men things."

"What men things?" I asked as I slowly stroked my cock.

"Sex things," Emma finally answered. "With your cock ... your big, hard teenage cock."

"But I'm your friend," I protested.

"But what if I was Nancy? What would you have done if it had been Nancy lying here?"

"I'd never do the same thing to you that I'd do to Nancy," I said as I leaned over towards my love. Only when I was on my elbows and knees, my elbows planted on each side of Emma's chest, and with my face inches from hers, did I stop.

"You'd fuck Nancy, I know you would. Even if she didn't want you to it wouldn't matter. You're too strong, you'd force her to. You're a strong man. A girl could never stop you. You'd put your big cock deep inside of her and fuck her, wouldn't you? You'd make her beg for it. You could make me beg for it."

"If it was you I'd do this," I said as my lips slowly descended onto hers. "I'd kiss her and love her," I whispered into her mouth as our lips joined. It was one of those kisses that start soft and gentle but which suddenly become something else. For what seemed like minutes our mouths urgently dueled. Our tongues explored. We finally disengaged. Her breast was heaving. Her nipples were punching into my chest. My, cock, huge and hard, was trapped between our stomachs.

"Then what would you do?" she gasped out.

"I'd touch you," I answered as my hand sought out and then found her breast.

"And then what?" she demanded. She was squirming under me. My hand quickly slipped down onto her sex. Then inside. My married baby sitter groaned softly. Still moist from my earlier oral ministrations my finger easily slipped inside.

"Then you'd fuck her wouldn't you?"

"But you're not her," I answered as I slowly pulled my finger out.

"Most men wouldn't care. Real men like you would never stop. Your cock wouldn't let you." Her invitation was clear.

"She'd have to ask me."

"Ask you what?" she demanded. In answer I reached for her hand and forced it between our bodies and onto my cock.

"She'd have to ask you to fuck her? Is that it?" Her hand started to move over my shaft. And then I felt her position it at her moist opening.

"You'd have to ask me to be your lover," I whispered.

"You could just fuck me. You don't need my permission." As she talked she moved her body and squeezed my cockhead between her lower lips.

"I'd never force you, never," I promised Emma, then lowered my lips to hers. As we kissed I pulled my penis back, freeing my cock even as she tried to hold me close.

"Fuck me." It was a demand. Again her fingers captured me. I kissed her again. She rubbed my cock urgently, needily up and down her slit.

"I love you. Please Matt, make love to me ... pleeeeeease. Fuck your Emma."

A second later I was inside her. Slowly, unhurriedly, I filled her.

It was a slow lovemaking. Every nerve in our bodies ignited into a frenzy of demanding urgency. Even though already moist from my oral stimulation, she moaned as my size stretched her.

And then it just worked. For both of us. In a way that I'd never experienced before. And I knew without her saying a word that she was feeling exactly the same.

It wasn't fucking. Or simple penetration and pumping. It was love. It was two becoming one. It was cries of pleasure. It was a tight, moist, urgent joining. It was a spurting of life deep into the woman I loved. It was Emma's insides opening as they orgasm-ed, welcoming the seed that would produce our baby.

But it was a million other things. Indescribable things.

***

"It's still hard." I smiled in answer, then rolled our bodies so that she ended up on top of me. I was still fully erect and inside her.

"Now it's your turn to make love to me Mrs. Pemberton-Smith," I invited.

"Do you really want me too? Does my little boy want his babysitter to fuck him?" she asked as she sat up so she was straddling me. "Has Matty been a good little boy?" she asked as she slowly lifted her hips up until only my cockhead was inside her. Then, after another quick movement of her hips, I popped free. Her soft palm circled my sticky hardness.