BabySitter Mooning

It was a hot and mucky night and that was how I was feeling - hot and mucky. I was babysitting for the Jeffersons. They were at a family get-together and had no idea as to when they'd be home. Accordingly I was going to sleep over in the spare room.

The kids were finally asleep but I didn't trust the little brutes. I figured I'd give them an hour or two before I thought about going to bed myself. I turned on the telly and started watching.

When the show I was watching finished I checked on the kids and found them all snoring their little heads off. Long may it continue. I adjourned to the bathroom, stripped off, and had a nice cool shower, washing away the ick and the grime. After drying I wrapped the towel around myself, picked up my clothes, and headed towards the room I was staying in.

Once in the bedroom I dumped the clothes on the floor next to my bag and bent over my bag to get fresh undies and my nightie. Apparently I should have crouched down as the act of bending put a strain on the towel and it promptly became untucked and joined my clothes on the floor.

That's the point where I heard the gentle clearing of a throat - from the sound of it a male throat. And there was I, starkers, mooning my unexpected guest. No, worse than mooning because it wasn't just my cute little bottom he could see. The overhead light was between me and the door so it was shining on me, revealing everything I had, and I mean everything.

I gave a startled squawk, straightening up and turning around. I knew instantly that this was a bad move. I was now giving a stranger a full frontal to go along with the rear view he'd already copped. A rapid step backwards and I plopped down on the bed, grabbing the cover to hold it in front of me in a desperate attempt to preserve what modesty I had left.

Now that I was sitting down and covered I had a chance to take stock of the situation. Me, naked but covered. Bad. A man in the room. More bad. Not a stranger. Good, I think. It was Robert, Mrs Jefferson's little brother. I didn't know why he was here, he was supposed to be at the party.

"Melanie," he said, smirking. "I rang the bell but no-one answered so I just came on in. I thought that you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you if that was the case."

My face was probably bright red and I glared at him.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded. "You're supposed to be at the party."

"I was," he said affably. "Unfortunately I have to get up early tomorrow. I swung past here to collect my bag before heading on home." He jerked his thumb towards a suitcase over near the door. I remember Mrs Jefferson saying he'd been away. Apparently he'd just dumped his case here for some reason.

"Okay," I muttered. "Feel free to take it and go." Leaving me free to writhe in embarrassment at what had happened. If he told anyone I'd have to either kill myself or him. Him, preferably.

"I'm going, I'm going," he assured me, at the same time moving closer to me. "First," he added, and took hold of the covers I was hiding behind and drew them away, flicking them back down onto the bed.

I'd tried to hold onto the damn things but he'd just twitched them and they seemed to just slide out of my grip. Once more I was naked and he was looking at me, seeing everything. And I mean everything because he was so close to me that his leg was between my knees, stopping me from closing my legs. My face felt so hot I expected it to catch fire.

"Eighteen, aren't you?" he observed and I nodded dumbly.

"Very nice," he said, his hand lightly covering my breasts and gently rubbing them.

Great, an insult and a complement at the same time. It's fine if he thinks I have nice breasts but that didn't give him license to fondle them. I didn't say anything, just looking down at his hand, stunned by his audacity.

I was further taken by surprise when that hand on my breasts started pressing harder, pushing me back until I was lying on my back, looking up at him. He'd also taken the opportunity to push my knees a little further apart, with him standing there, looming over me.

"You have a lovely figure," he told me, his hand drifting down from my breasts and finally covering a much more sensitive part of my body. I'll swear that my eyes were popping from the shock of it.

"Stop it," I managed to gasp out, finding myself completely ignored. No, that's not right. What I said was ignored. My body wasn't. He now had one hand rubbing my breasts and the other was rubbing my vulva, and I was feeling most strange.

"You shouldn't be doing this," I insisted, and he laughed.

"Of course I should," he said. "Should I show you why?"

I guess he took my puzzled look for assent as he straightened up and calmly dropped his trousers and jocks. This left his erection very much on display. No girl gets to be eighteen plus without having seen an erection or two. I'd just never seen one this close and personal. It looked a damn sight bigger than I expected.

"Put that away," I said in a strangled voice and he laughed again.

"I intend to," he assured me. "Just be patient."

Then his hands were back on me, teasing me, creating the most tantalising feelings, feelings that made me want more while at the same time making me scared of what they meant. Surely he didn't intend to rape me?

Looking up at him I found I wasn't looking at his as Robert, Mrs Jefferson's little brother, but as a man, a very big man, and one who knew just what he was doing. I was just a girl and feeling smaller, and more girly, and helpless by the moment, and didn't have the faintest idea of what I was doing, other than it was something I'd never done before. He wouldn't force me, I was insisting to myself, but at the same time I could see his erection standing out from his groin and swaying slightly as he moved, a snake standing tall and ready to strike.

"No. I'm a virgin," I pointed out.

"Well I know that," he said, his fingers inside me and poking about. Feeling exactly where he was poking me I guess he did know that.

What was I supposed to do now? I'd said no and he'd ignored me. Should I struggle? Would that get the message across that I didn't want this? There again, what if it just made him rougher? Maybe if I screamed or yelled? Should I hit him? Bite him? I sure couldn't kick him because he was between my legs.

I was dithering, trying to decide what to do, while his fingers were dancing about in my tender flesh. I was distracting myself from what he was doing so I was taken by surprise when I felt his cock starting to press between my lips.

I went, "Eep," as he started pushing into me, and that changed to a yelp of pain as he popped my cherry.

"You rotten swine," I yowled at him.

"Relax," he said softly, his hands stroking my breasts. "It only hurts for a moment the first time. That's over now and you can concentrate on the pleasure."

"What pleasure?" I snarled, trying to ignore those tantalising feelings that had started up again. Similar feelings seemed to be drifting down from where he was teasing my breasts, meeting up in my groin. Heat was building down there and I had no say in the matter.

He kept pressing into me and I could feel his cock taking over. It was filling me whether I would or not. He gave one last little thrust and I could feel his groin grinding against me.

"Now lift your legs and wrap them around my waist," he instructed me, and I promptly asked, "Why?"

"Because I told you to and I'll smack your bottom if you don't," he said. Put like that I lifted my legs, wrapping them around his waist. I now discovered that this meant he was able to sink in a little deeper, and he seemed to enjoy that.

"From this point on all you have to do is move with me," he told me. "It's really quite easy and natural."

Easy for him to say. This was my first rape. I could feel him moving within me, seeming to pull away and then thrusting back in. Thrusting back in quite firmly, too. It took a few tries before I got the rhythm right but then it was a case of wow, I could take a lot more of this. Rape or not it was a fantastic feeling.

Robert certainly demonstrated that he knew what he was doing. He built up the way I was feeling until I damn near screaming. Then he kept me hovering at that point while he continued sliding his cock in and out, stirring me up just enough that I didn't know what was happening.

By this time I was just moving automatically with him, incoherent little sounds gabbling out of my mouth. I wanted to tell him to do something but I didn't know what, just something. I'd been told men tend to be in a hurry, just rushing to have their fun. That didn't seem to apply to Robert. He was having his fun but part of his fun seemed to having the ability to torment me and drive me wild.

When he was finally ready he changed his tactics, driving into me harder and hotter. It was all too much for me and I exploded internally, the strangest sensations ripping through me, while I gasped, desperate for air. I'd have screamed but I didn't have the ability.

He pulled away from me and despite myself I found I missed the weight of him on me and the way his cock had filled me. I hastily gave myself a mental slap.

"You rotten mongrel," I gasped out. "You raped me."

"I did no such thing," he objected. "I just took advantage of your generous offer. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

I started spluttering, unable to believe that he'd make such a claim. He looked at his watch and sighed.

"Listen, I'd love to stay and have another go but I really do have to be up early in the morning. Just let me know when you're sitting again and I'll make an effort and come round."

With that he kissed me, hard, patted my breast, grabbed his case and departed. Now what was I supposed to do? I sighed. Have another shower and go to bed was my best guess.