The Ex-Babysitter Version 02

'Are you just going to sit there? Aren't you even going to clean yourself up?'

There she went again, acting the ex-babysitter. I raised myself. 'I suppose so.' But then a thought occurred to me. I smirked at her in what I hoped was a knowing manner. 'I suppose you want me out of the way so's you can play with yourself too.'

'Don't be ridiculous!' She tried to look outraged, but it didn't come off.

'Oh don't go all innocent on me,' I countered. 'You know I know you do it.'

'Yes, I do know,' she stated meaningfully, 'but I have the decency to do it in private.'

'Oh I see, it's alright for me to do it openly in front of you, but with you we've got to pretend it's a secret.'

She knew I had her, but she wasn't giving up.

'It's different. I'm older than you. I used to be your babysitter.'

'Yeah, and don't you keep reminding me.' I decided to act the kid she plainly thought I still was. 'It's not fair. You watched me, now I get to watch you.

She tried another tack. 'I can't.'

'Why not?'

'Because.'

I laughed out loud. 'Because? Now who sounds like a kid?'

'Because I'm embarrassed.' True, her face was now a bright pink. Perhaps I really was pushing her too far. But just as I was about to relent I had an intuition. What if she was blushing because really she was turned on by the thought of playing with herself in front of me?

'No, you're not. You want to.'

'Don't be absurd,' she exclaimed. But it didn't carry much conviction.

'I bet your knickers are all wet.'

'Don't be disgusting. Of course they're not.'

'OK, show me.'

'What do you mean, show you?'

'Put your hand down there and show me. Prove it.'

'I will not.'

'Because you know I'm right.'

There was a long pause. She stared at me defiantly, but I held her gaze. Eventually she sighed. 'Alright. But only to keep you quiet.'

'Whatever.'

With what I took to be feigned reluctance she lifted her t-shirt and slid a hand inside the waistband of her sweat pants. She moved her legs apart slightly and the outline of her hand slid between them. But instead of bringing it out again so we could both examine the evidence, or lack of it, she closed her eyes and gave a little breathless cry.

'Well,' I prompted, 'am I right or am I right?'

She opened her eyes and looked at me. 'Of course you're right. Now do you want me to do this, or are you going to distract me by talking all the time?'

'Oh, you go right ahead.'

'Just stay over your end of the sofa then. I don't want you getting any ideas.'

'Just pretend I'm not here,' I advised her generously.

She gave a little ironic laugh. 'I can't believe I'm doing this. I must be mad.'

No sooner had she spoken than her eyes closed again and her head tilted up as if she'd just touched a particularly sensitive spot. 'Oh, God, I can't...' But if her mind wanted her to stop, her body plainly had other ideas. Her hips rose and fell in time with her busy fingers. 'Oh, it feels lovely... I can't believe it, but I think I'm going to come.' Under the cotton of her sweat pants I could see her hand pressing into her, as if trying to prevent something escaping. 'Oh, it's happening! I'm coming! I can't stop it!' And her pelvis thrust up off the sofa as if trying to swallow her hand, and the muscles of her arm stood out as she held her fingers firmly against her no doubt throbbing clit.

I waited.

'There, that wasn't so bad, was it?'

She opened her eyes. 'I can't believe I just did that. That's the first time I've ever done it in front of anyone.'

'There's a first time for everything.'

'Oh, listen to the man of the world.' She closed her eyes again. 'And that was the quickest I've ever come. I must have been really turned on.' She spoke as if it was a real surprise to her. Modesty prevented me from pointing out my little performance may have had something to do with that.

But then she made it clear nothing much had changed. She sat up and straightened herself out. 'Right, we've both had a bit of fun, but this was just a one-off, OK? No repeat performances.'

She was serious. Alright, I didn't fancy her, but surely we could have a bit of fun now and then.

'I shouldn't have encouraged you. I know you're eighteen, but I still feel responsible for you. Your dad asked me to keep an eye on you, not play sex games with you...'

'Hang on,' I interrupted. 'Dad asked you what?'

'To keep an eye on you...'

'Oh, I see,' I stormed. 'Once the babysitter, always the babysitter.' I stamped upstairs and slammed my bedroom door behind me.

Was I never going to be allowed to grow up?

Of course, I wasn't mad for long. Yes, I resented being treated like a kid, but that was my dad all over. He probably thought I still hadn't reached puberty. It wasn't Jenny's fault.

After a couple of days sulking in my room so's she got the message I wasn't happy, I started drifting downstairs again. Over a meal she cooked of spaghetti bolognese she didn't say anything and neither did I, but we both knew it was by way of an apology. From now on, the unspoken promise was, she wouldn't treat me like a kid. And though I didn't say so, I suppose I was sorry in my own way for what I'd made her do in front of me.

So things drifted back into the usual routine. I'd wake up and have a wank -- though from then on I kept my door locked -- and I assumed she also had one occasionally -- though from then on dad's bedroom door was never open when I went to the bathroom, so I never knew for sure. For the rest of the day she'd work on her book and I'd lounge about reading or listening to music or watching a DVD. Then we'd have supper, watch some TV and go to bed. Pretty mindless, really.

It wasn't so surprising, then, that I found myself masturbating more and more often, sometimes three or four times a day. Even more surprisingly, I found myself thinking of Jenny while I was doing it. I kept telling myself I didn't fancy her -- how could I? To me she was middle-aged. But the sight of her making herself come that evening on the sofa just obsessed me. I couldn't get it out of my mind.

And it wasn't long before I had another image to excite me.

One morning I got up after the usual wank and wandered along to the bathroom. I must still have been half-asleep, because I didn't register either that Jenny's bedroom door was wide open or that there was the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. I just marched straight in. Luckily the room was all steamed up, so she didn't see me come in. In any case, she was busy. She was in the shower. I could just make out her shape through the frosted glass and running water. I was just about to back out again when I saw what she was doing. She was standing with her legs spread wide and slightly bent at the knee and she was directing the flexible shower hose up between them. Above the sound of the water I could hear her voice going 'oh God, oh God,' over and over like she was in some kind of trance. Her other hand was pressed flat against the side of the shower stall as if for balance and her head was thrown back, her hair loose and wet against the glass. My cock stiffened instantly and thrust out from the front of my dressing gown. Amazing. I'd only come about five minutes ago and now here I was ready to go again.

Jenny was completely lost. Even as I watched, her body went rigid and her free hand clenched into a fist. She cried out, 'Yes! Yes! Oh God, yes!'

Then slowly she lowered the hose and her body started to relax.

I decided it was time to make myself scarce. I slipped out and closed the door, then went back to my own room, climbed back into bed and brought myself off there and then, without even bothering to lock the door. And all the time I thought of Jenny, the hose pouring jets of water against her clit, her clenched fist, her long wet hair against the glass, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

That day I was in and out of my room like a jack-in-a-box. Every time I had a spare moment my mind drifted back to the sight of Jenny in the shower and I just had to go and get rid of the ensuing hard-on. By supper time I still couldn't get her out of my mind, even with her sitting opposite me looking like a dog's breakfast in her sweatpants and baggy t-shirt.

It didn't take her long to notice.

'You're very quiet. What's up with you?'

'Nothing.'

'Right,' she said, which was her way of saying she didn't believe me.

I got up. 'I'm going to watch TV.'

'What's on?'

'I don't know.'

'Sounds good to me,' she smiled. 'I think I'll join you.'

'Suit yourself.'

We took our usual positions at either ends of the sofa. There was nothing on worth watching, but we watched it anyway. My mind wandered to the memory of her masturbating in the shower. I got a hard-on. Inevitably. This was becoming almost tiresome. I got up.

'I'm going to bed,' I announced.

'What, at 8.30?'

'I'm tired.'

'Oh, sit down. What's the matter with you? You've been bobbing up and down like a yo-yo all day.'

'Haven't.' I knew I sounded like a spoilt kid, but I sat down.

We sat in silence for a while. Then, 'I suppose you want to go off and play with yourself as usual.'

Oh, this was too much. 'I do not.'

She smiled, infuriatingly. 'I can see you do from here.'

'No, you can't.'

'So what's that then?' she queried, nodding at the bulge in my denims, 'a banana?'

'Very funny.' I decided I had to put her in her place. 'At least I don't jack off in the shower every morning.'

The blush that instantly spread from her neck to her cheeks was very gratifying. Bulls eye.

'Have you been spying on me again?'

'No, I haven't. You ought to try locking the bathroom door when you're in there.'

'Don't worry. I will.' But despite her angry tone, she also sounded a bit embarrassed. I decided to go a little easier.

'I shouldn't worry about it. I didn't see much. It was all steamy.'

'Yes, well...' She sounded less angry. 'I can see you liked what you saw.'

'What do you mean?'

'Honestly, Tim, you're so transparent. How many times have you done it today? Four? Five? That's pretty impressive, even for you.'

Now I was the one who was blushing. 'How do you know?'

'Has it never occurred to you your dad's study is right under your bedroom? And your bed rocks when you jerk off? I can practically hear you come.'

Oh God, this was embarrassing.

'Luckily you never seem to take very long, otherwise I'm sure I'd never get my book finished.'

'Jesus, why didn't you tell me?'

'Because I didn't want to stop you. It's no business of mine what you get up to in your bedroom.' I was mortified. Then she made me feel even worse by being sympathetic. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of. Every teenage boy does it.'

'Yeah, right. That makes me feel a whole lot better.'

She could see she was going to have to do more. 'What can I say, Tim? Seriously, you're doing nothing wrong.' She looked me straight in the eye. 'In fact, I like the idea of you doing it.'

'You're kidding me.'

'I'm not. When you made yourself come in front me the other night I really liked it. Well, you know it turned me on.'

This was sounding better. I decided to push my luck. 'So you'd like to watch me again?' I put my hand on my erection just to make my meaning crystal clear. But it was a step too far.

'Ah, now I didn't say that. In fact, I remember distinctly telling you it was a one-off.'

'Yeah, but I don't remember agreeing.' I stroked the denim stretched over my cock. 'Look at it. It needs dealing with.'

She laughed despite herself. 'I honestly don't know where they come from. How many times did I say you'd come today? Four? Five?'

'Six actually,' I grinned. 'You missed the one I did in the downstairs toilet.' I caught her look. 'Don't worry, I cleaned it up.'

'I should hope so.' She was looking at my hand slowly moving up and down the length of my shaft. Was it my imagination or were her lips slightly parted? And was that the tip of her tongue between them?

'I promise I'll go to bed straight after,' I said.

She was silent for a long time, but her eyes never left my slowly moving hand. 'Alright then, just this once.' Then immediately, 'God, what am I saying? I can't believe I'm actually encouraging you to masturbate in front of me again.'

I started rubbing my cock in earnest. 'Well, I don't think I need much encouragement.'

'No,' she agreed. 'You certainly don't.'

I concentrated my fingers on the top. Having come six times already that day I felt as if I could linger over it a little. I was hot, but I wasn't going to come that quickly. From her end of the sofa Jenny watched spellbound, all pretence of reluctance gone now. 'What does that feel like?'

'What?'

'When you touch the end like that.'

'Great.'

She squirmed in her seat.

'What's the matter?'

'What do you think? You're making me horny.'

'Touch yourself then,' I suggested.

'No way.' She drew back. 'I told you, that was a one-off.'

'Spoilsport.'

'Let me just concentrate on what you're doing.' She laughed. 'God, I can't believe I just said that.'

I eased myself back into the sofa so she could get a better view.

'Don't you want to touch yourself?' she asked after a while.

'What do you mean? I am touching myself.'

'I mean properly.'

I caught her drift. 'Oh, you mean like this.' And I slid my hand under the belt of my jeans and into my boxers. At the touch of my fingers, my cock immediately put on another half inch.

'What does that feel like?' Jenny wanted to know.

'A bit cramped, to tell the truth.'

'Oh.' She seemed disappointed.

I kept my hand there because there's nothing quite like the touch of flesh on flesh, but I wasn't lying: I could barely move my fingers there was so little room. Jenny watched me struggle for a bit, then

'I suppose you could always undo your belt.'

'Yeah, I could, couldn't I?'

So I pulled my hand out and undid the belt on my jeans and unzipped them. I slipped my hand back into my boxers and grabbed my cock. On each down stroke the head just peeped out from under the waistband.

'Is that better?'

'Much,' I assured her. I was beginning to feel I might be close to coming, so I tried to slow down.

'Are you going to come?'

'I don't know. I'm trying not to.'

Jenny smiled. 'Yes, I do that too. A bit of you wants it to last forever, but the rest of you wants it to happen as soon as possible.'

'Right.'

'What's the bit that feels the best?' she wanted to know.

'Just round the slit and under the crown.'

She took a deep breath. 'Show me.'

Had I heard right? 'What? Take it out?'

'Yes, I want to see. I want to see what you do to yourself every time you disappear into your bedroom and stop me working.'

'You're the boss.' I lifted my hips from the sofa and pushed my jeans and pants out from under me. My engorged cock sprang into full view. I wanted to take them off completely but she stopped me.

'No, leave them round your thighs like that. It looks more...abandoned.'

I put my hand back round my shaft, but no, she didn't want that either.

'No, don't touch it for a minute. I want to look at it.' She leaned forward a little and gazed intently at my stiff red naked cock lying flat against my belly. 'You have a lovely cock, Tim. Still, I expect you know that already. You make love to it often enough.'

'Very funny. Can I finish now?'

'Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt.'

So I resumed. And because she'd asked me to, I paid a lot of attention to the slit and the rim under the crown and within a minute or two I was about ready to explode, what with her watching me so intently and licking her lips with the tip of her tongue.

'Are you going to come?'

'Yes.'

'I knew it. Your eyes have gone all hooded.'

'Oh yes, it's happening.'

'Go on, do it, Tim, do it for me. I want to see your come spurting.'

'Oh, Jenny, I'm coming.'

'Yes, do it. Do it.'

And then my cock was throbbing and jerking in my hand and come was shooting out in thick gobs all over my belly.

'Oh, that's so lovely. Your cock looks so beautiful. Your come is so thick and creamy. Keep stroking yourself. Squeeze it all out for me.' Her eyes were bright, as if she were on drugs. 'Oh, that's so beautiful.' She was still at her end of the sofa, but leaning forward, intently watching my hand slow on my already shrinking cock. 'Rub your come into your skin. Rub it all over.'

I did as I was told. She watched me as if mesmerised.

I began to come down. My hand fell off my belly onto the sofa. I felt shattered. My seventh orgasm that day. No wonder.

I glanced at Jenny. The brightness had gone from her eyes. She looked as if she were coming round from a trance. She straightened herself up. Now it was over, she seemed to be avoiding my eye.

'Did you enjoy that?' I asked, more to regain some intimacy than because I wanted to know the answer.

She smiled a stiff little smile. 'Of course I did. But you'd better clean yourself up now.'

'So you can have your turn,' I suggested.

'I've already had it,' she admitted, 'while you were having yours.'

So that's why she'd been squirming round so much. 'That's not fair. I wanted to watch.'

'Too bad. You were busy.'

'I won't be next time,' I assured her.

She stood up. 'There's not going to be a next time.'

'What?'

'I've told you, Tim. This has gone much too far already. I have to behave myself even if you can't. I'm in a position of responsibility here and I can't allow a repeat of this.'

'Hang on a minute,' I protested. 'What about...'

She walked to the door. 'I'll see you in the morning and we'll say no more about it. Good night.'

And with that she was gone.

The next day I decided to spend in bed. Round about lunchtime Jenny knocked on my door, but I pretended to be asleep until she went away. At suppertime she tried again. 'I've done steak and chips.'

My favourite.

'I'm not hungry.'

After a while I heard her footsteps going down the stairs.

I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. I'd only managed one cock session since the morning. Perhaps I was sickening for something.

At breakfast the next morning I sulked, just to make sure she knew I still wasn't a happy bunny. Jenny didn't say anything, but she must have got the message because there were two extra rashers of bacon on my plate. It rained all day, so I just lounged round the house, played a couple of computer games and watched The Matrix for the nth time. By the evening I was bored out of my skull.

After dinner we sat in the living room. I didn't fancy sitting on the sofa with her, instead I sprawled in what is known in our family as dad's chair. While I pretended to read, I watched her surreptitiously. She sat squeezed into the far end of the sofa, her legs folded up beside her, her book open on her thigh, her head supported by her arm resting on the arm of the sofa. She was still dressed in her usual shapeless gear but for some reason she'd dispensed with the elastic band, which meant her hair fell down past her shoulders, partly obscuring her face. Fine by me.

I tried to think of her as the ex-babysitter, the near-middle-aged family friend, but it was no good. My mind kept returning to the scene the last time we'd been in this room. Me with my jeans and pants down to my knees, rubbing my cock for all I was worth while she watched me with her bright eyes and secretly brought herself off. It's little wonder the inevitable happened. Yeah, I got an erection.

As my cock built its tent out of my jeans, a bit of me thought I should try to hide it. Hadn't she made it pretty plain nothing was going to happen again? But another part of me couldn't be fucked. Let her leave the room if she couldn't stand the sight of a good healthy hard-on. So I just stayed sprawled in the chair as I was, with my legs spread out in front me and a nice firm bulge growing in my crotch. I even gave it a couple of strokes.