tagBDSMBabysitter's Education Ch. 01

Babysitter's Education Ch. 01

byTappy_McWidestance©

My name is Mia and I am a freshman in college. Before you ask, no it's not a big fancy Ivy League school or even a state university. I'm going to my local community college for a couple of years to save money. My goal is to go to law school some day so I still have seven years of expensive university in front of me so I figured getting my basic classes out of the way in a more cost effective way was a good thing. It's been quite a transition. In high school I was a cheerleader and dated guys on the football and basketball team. I was part of the in crowd, always invited to the hot parties and always had guys fawning over me. After graduation, that changed. All my friends had jobs so we couldn't hang out like we once did and if we did get together it was never in a big group. Then in August, they all went away to school leaving me to be, well, just me. I had just turned 19 and was starting at a new school where I knew nobody and where nobody would think I was special. It was a culture shock.

I dove into my studies and slowly began to enjoy college life; although I was always a bit jealous of my friends as I imagined them having wild parties all the time and enjoying their freedom away from home. I still lived with my parents, which was OK since we got along fine, but it did preclude me from partying too much or experimenting with drugs, sex and other things like a stereotypical college student. That's not to say I was a nun, but I just pictured my old girlfriends hooking up every weekend with some hot college stud, going to fraternity parties or both.

It wasn't until my second semester that I believe my real education began. That was when I took a Women's Studies and Comparative Cultures class. While the class was fascinating as it dealt with how people around the world lived in different ways, specifically how cultures affected women's lives, the real benefit was the teacher. A woman named Renee taught the class. She was French, having come to America nine years ago to go to college. She said she had met a boy in school and got married right after graduation. Unfortunately the marriage didn't last and now at 28-years old, she was single and making her way. None of that would have mattered if Renee didn't also have a four-year-old son and needed a babysitter every other weekend. When she asked if anyone in the class had a younger sister who babysat, I raised my hand and she asked me to stay after class to discuss it.

Renee was surprised that I was volunteering for the babysitting job. I had experience from when I was in high school and I could always use some extra money. She told me she was hesitant because it could look like she was trading my services for a better grade, but I reassured her that was the furthest thing from my mind (I didn't need help with getting a good grade) and that I would keep it a secret if that made her more comfortable.

I started babysitting on Friday and Saturday nights, every other week. Her ex-husband took her son every other weekend and on Wednesday nights and she explained to me that she "needed some adult contact" on the weekend to keep herself sane, "if you know what I mean."

I did know what she meant and even commiserated a bit with her that since my friends were away from school, my party schedule was greatly diminished and I rarely dated. That is why I was free on the weekends. While I wouldn't say we were friends, we did get to know each other a little more than a typical student/teacher relationship. Every other Friday and Saturday night, I would show up at her house about 8pm. She liked that I was older and could stay up later. Her son was almost always ready for bed, so after Renee left, always looking very formal with an alluring dress and impeccable make-up, he would go to sleep and I would study or watch a movie. She would return, usually about midnight. She would then have a glass of wine or two to wind down while we talked about her dates, my boring social life or just chatted about current events. Renee was actively traversing the singles bar scene looking for someone to connect with. It was kind of depressing knowing that in time, I too might be making that journey if I didn't find someone at school. Every week that she didn't find the next Mr. Right was a conversation about why American men are such pigs I had with her while she drank. Some nights she came home later (1 or 2am) having obviously hooked-up with somebody. Those guys were Mr. Right Now. Those nights found her in a better mood, if only for a couple days until it was clear they were not calling her back. We never talked details, but it made me feel sad for her.

I didn't understand why she couldn't find somebody. She was beautiful, educated and her French accent was alluring, or so any boy who heard it at school would tell me if we talked about her. Maybe it was cultural or maybe she was just still on the defensive about getting emotionally involved. But that changed when she met Mr. X. I called him that because she never mentioned anything about him including his name. She met him on a Saturday night. She left the house wearing, well, what I considered a pretty slutty dress showing lots of leg and a fair amount of cleavage. She also had on stockings and four-inch stilettos. She didn't mention it, but I knew it had been a few weeks since she got lucky and I guess she was trying to stack the deck in her favor. I made a mental note to be prepared for her to get home late. That didn't bother me. I usually fell asleep on the couch and she always paid for the extra time without a fuss. I told her "good luck" and winked at her as she walked out the door. She smiled back and said, "Luck is not a factor."

As was the usual case, her son slept through the night with nary a peep from the baby monitor disturbing me. I got caught up on my studies and watched a movie. About 11pm my phone chirped and I saw that Renee had texted me saying she was going to be late. Possibly as late as 3am. I told her that wasn't a problem and sent her the wink emoji. I then finished my movie and started another one, but I fell asleep about 12:30. I woke to the sound of her heels on the hardwood floor. She was trying to sneak past me, but bumped into the coffee table. I immediately woke up, for a moment forgetting where I was. She was giggling. I'd never seen her like that. She was also walking like she was sore. As I got my wits back, I realized she was drunk. And from her messed up hair and make-up, not to mention her dress being wrinkled far more than when she left, I deduced that she got lucky that night. From the way she was walking gingerly, I'd say she got seriously lucky as somebody had obviously fucked her right. Of course, I didn't say anything as that would be inappropriate, but I was happy for her. I must say, I could use a fucking like that as well.

I said good night to her and began walking toward the door. She offered me the guest bedroom since it was so late, but I declined. She didn't live far from my parent's house and I wanted to go home. She looked a little disappointed like maybe she wanted to talk (brag) about what happened, but I really didn't want to know the details.

Two weeks later on Friday night, she was again dressed pretty trashy and giggled that she would be home late and hoped I didn't mind. She again said I was welcome to the guest bedroom instead of crashing on the couch and just said to take the baby monitor with me if I did that. It was after 3 when she staggered into the living room. Her dress was still neat, but her make-up showed signs of crying and her hair was a mess. But she was in a great mood. This time I did stay for a few minutes of girl talk while she drank a glass of wine but all I could get out of her about her date was that she now had a friend with benefits that could "keep her sane."

Each night I babysat she would return happier than when she left and definitely unkempt from her flawless condition when she had walked out of the door earlier. I was a bit jealous. Monday through Friday in class she was a model professor, professional in every way. But every other Friday and Saturday night, she would return home doing the walk of shame, although not displaying that she was embarrassed about it. I began to formulate theories about Mr. X and the benefits he was providing. Then fate intervened. I was studying in the living room as usual when the Wi-Fi went out. This had happened once before and I found her router on a desk in her bedroom. I had rebooted it before and that solved the problem so I went to do it again. What I found, however, changed my life.

Sitting next to the laptop on her desk, was a small leather book. I'm not sure what possessed me to pick it up and open the cover, but I found it was her journal. I wasn't surprised that she kept a journal (I had done so in the past) but I was surprised she left it out. I guess she didn't think I would be in her bedroom. I was curious, so I started leafing through the pages. Most of it was about the end of her marriage and starting teaching at a new school. I wasn't overly interested in the school pages, but looking at the dates I realized which pages were about her divorce. Those were more interesting to me. I knew I shouldn't do it, but I took the journal back to the living room and began reading it. The pages surrounding her divorce were very dark and spoke of tremendous heartache. I empathized with her, although I had no real frame of reference for what she was feeling. The pages detailing her time spent at the singles bars were also rather depressing. Even the pages showing joy at a hook-up, we tempered by entries a few days later of anger. Then we got to the section dealing with the first night I saw her come home after meeting Mr. X.

Alas there were no details as to names or places, but there was detail about what they did. Renee wrote about meeting in a bar and immediately falling under FWB's spell. How they left the bar without the usual hours of fake chat, drinking and dancing. How they both just knew and how Renee followed when FWB said they were leaving.

It turns out; I was right to assume she got fucked good and proper that first night. Again the journal had no details about his anatomy or exactly what he did to her, but she did detail how she felt and that nobody had ever "filled me so completely." I admit I had a mental picture of what that might look like. I've never thought of girls sexually, but I could picture Renee with her stocking clad legs spread while Mr. X had his way with her. She also described being flipped onto her hands and knees without being asked and that she hated when her ex wanted to do her doggie style, but how she came over and over in that position that night. Apparently she lost track of her orgasms before Mr. X was through with her. That certainly explained her labored walk that night. She also mentioned loving the feeling of just being flipped over without being asked and taken. That sounded good to me too.

Damn, I thought to myself. My boyfriends always squirted within minutes. Mr. X seemed to go forever. I remember thinking Renee was a lucky woman. I also remember feeling my panties getting wet reading about her night. By the time I read about her next "date" with FWB, my fingers were in my panties and I was trying hard to get off. Masturbating is something I do frequently since I don't have a boyfriend, but thinking about a girl getting drilled was a first for me as I brought myself to orgasm. Yes I was thinking about his apparently always-hard dick and how he never quit until Renee was completely spent. But I was also thinking about how my impeccably put together professor was being splayed open and having her holes used. And yes, but their second encounter he had used all three and apparently she loved it.

Having orgasmed once already, I took the journal back into her bedroom and placed it back on the desk. I then went back to the living room, but I couldn't concentrate on the movie because I was imagining what Renee was probably doing right now. I knew I could read a few more weeks into the future, but I preferred to fantasize about her. I told myself the next time I babysat, I could read her journal and see if my predictions were right. I fell asleep not long after that. Renee came home a little earlier that night, but as was now her custom, she was unkempt. I woke with a start again. I had been dreaming about Renee and her FWB. My panties were soaked, but fortunately I was wearing blue jeans so the wetness would not show. Renee was tired and said she was going right to bed. I went home and masturbated with my vibrator until I fell asleep.

As I sat in Renee's class that week it was hard to concentrate on her lecture when all I could see when I looked at her was a wild woman enjoying her life to the fullest. I had to figure out a way to put her adventurous side out of my mind, but that proved difficult, especially when I read more of her journal next time I babysat. This time I wore a short skirt and blouse to her house. It was a little out of place, but I explained I had a dinner date before coming over. She bought my ruse. As usual she was dressed to the nines for her evening. I waited for about an hour after she left and her son went to sleep to go look for her journal. It wasn't on the desk this time. Was it just a mistake last time? Did she realize I had read it and didn't say anything? I found it in her desk drawer so I told myself I was just being paranoid about it.

I give Renee credit. She wrote something every day. I had never been that dedicated to my own journal. She also grew more detailed as her FWB relationship grew, although there still were no details about him. Apparently, though, not satisfied to just fuck her senseless, he had begun using her in kinky ways. This was a revelation to me. It's not that I was ignorant to the ways of BDSM, at least in theory, but I'd never met anyone who had participated. That had apparently changed as Renee obviously had developed a love for being tied up. Not only being tied up, but teased with vibrators and not being allowed to cum until she begged (edging she called it), being spanked, and even riding some kind of machine called a Sybian until she collapsed. I had to look that one up. That night, when I masturbated reading her journal, I supplemented my reading with streaming videos of what she described. They were not of her, but at least I could imagine what she would look like.

One of the things she described was being bound spread eagle on the bed. Mr. X apparently left just enough slack in her ropes so that she could twist and struggle a bit, but she wasn't going to get lose. He also blindfolded her. Then, in a masterpiece of teasing, hung a Hitachi Wand (I had to look that one up too) from the ceiling so it swung back and forth as she struggled bouncing off her pussy. She described how maddening it was that every time she remained calm enough to have the wand rest on her happy spot, the vibrations excited her too much to hold still and she would rock to the side knocking the Hitachi off its pleasure target. FWB left her like that for about an hour until she was covered in sweat and "blabbering like an idiot" (her words) begging to be allowed to cum.

I had never even contemplated such a thing, but as I streamed a video of a woman using a Hitachi on herself, I was overwhelmed with how much fun it would be to be put in Renee's situation. When I masturbated, I sometimes went fast to get off quickly and I sometimes went slow to make the sensations last. The idea that someone else would control that pace and drive me insane with desire was appealing. I came quickly reading Renee's journal just like last time. Now I wanted to make myself climax again, but much slower. It was close to midnight and I figured I had an hour or two before Renee got home. I put the journal away so I wouldn't get busted and then, for the first time, went into the guest bedroom and flopped onto the bed.

I would have loved to strip down for this part of the story, but I was afraid Renee would come home early and I didn't have a good excuse why I would be naked. I did lie on the bed stretching my arms and legs toward the corners as she had described. Granted, I could move them any time so I didn't get her full experience, but at least I got a taste. I lay in the dark that way imagining Renee's FWB had me tied as well. Mr. X was teasing me the same way he teased Renee. After about ten minutes alone with my naughty thoughts, I slide one hand under my skirt and under the elastic band of my panties. I was incredibly turned on. Normally when I feel like this I go for the quick, cum at all costs method of masturbating. But since Renee had been teased to the breaking point, I attempted to do the same. I was not successful. Even just thinking about having the Hitachi bouncing between my legs had me emotionally sensitive and when my fingers began to rub my clit, I came almost immediately. But I didn't stop there.

The journal also described Renee being on her hands and knees with her face in her pillow and ass in the air. She was spanked, fingered and then fucked with a vibrator "when she asked nicely and pledged to be a good slut." (Again her words)

After I came in my self-imposed spread eagle, I rolled over onto my tummy and raised myself up to my knees mimicking her position. I have never been spanked, but I had read a bit on the subject and knew it could be quite erotic and give the spankee a kind of runner's high. I had two problems with this position. First, it's tough to give yourself a firm hand spanking. I tried to hit myself, but I always slowed down right before impact. I think part of that was I didn't want to feel the pain but another part of me was worried the noise would wake up Renee's son. One thing I was not prevented from achieving was the fingering part. I pulled my panties down to my thighs and I reached between my legs and slid two fingers into my wet and very needy pussy.

As I was fucking myself, between throaty moans into the pillow, I made a mental note to try spanking myself at home when my parents were out. I wouldn't have to worry about the noise and I figured I could borrow a paddle from the ping pong table downstairs if I couldn't bring myself to slap my butt hard enough. Again the vision of a helpless Renee, her ass bright red of her spanking, her pussy dripping from being fingered firmly, but not quite hard enough to make her orgasm, begging Mr. X to fuck her. And fuck her he did, at least in my mind.

Renee never described Mr. X, but if she was willing to do all these kinky things for him, he had to be a Greek God with a huge, hard cock. At least that was how I pictured him. My fingers were certainly smaller than his dick, but I imagined it was him pummeling me from behind. Fortunately the pillow kept my moans from escaping too far. I'd like to say I lasted half and hour or more with this game, but the truth be told, I only made it a couple minutes longer than when I was spread eagled, and that was probably only because my second orgasm always takes longer than the first. I was actually surprised I came so fast the second time. I usually struggle to cum more than once, but I suppose that is because I am with lame lovers and at least in my fantasy world, I was with a stallion.

I would have liked to have just curled up in that bed right then, but I probably looked as disheveled as Renee would when she got home so I got up to make myself presentable. My pussy was demanding more attention. That confused me because I'd never cum more than twice in a day, but my body was telling me I needed more. Looking at the bathroom clock I saw it was 12:30 and decided any further pleasure would have to wait until I got home to my trusty vibrator. When Renee finally arrived home, I was back to being the good, innocent babysitter, although I couldn't wait to get home again, strip off my clothes and get myself off until I couldn't cum any more. But something was off with Renee.

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byTappy_McWidestance© 13 comments/ 40567 views/ 56 favorites

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