tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Sitter Needs a Ride

The Sitter Needs a Ride


Author's note: This is a summer love contest entry. It's edgy and dark. I hope you like it.


Joe Murphy and his wife Molly arrived back at the house earlier than planned. The kids were alone in the living room watching a movie. The new sitter wasn't there to greet them.

Joe shrugged to Molly.

The kids were eleven and twelve, old enough that they didn't need a sitter, but he'd wanted to give Gloria a chance to prove herself. Molly sat on the couch. She petted the youngest child's head and yanked off one of her shoes.

Joe went looking for Gloria.

He went into the kitchen. He padded down the hall.

He checked the master bedroom. The digital clock glowed on the bed stand, its big red numerals read 10:22 P.M. An idea of how he might find her popped into his head, sending a pulse of raw energy through his belly, straight to his cock. Her parents hadn't put her out because she was an innocent. She was an attractive girl, eighteen or nineteen. Mediterranean skin, a large nose and thick eyebrows that somehow complemented her, even if they dominated her face. Joe met her at the social after Mass in Saint Barnaby's basement. He could tell right off she didn't think much of her looks, but that just gave her a shy accommodating sensibility that made her all the more appealing to him. Slipping into the garage, he heard a soft moan coming from behind a stack of boxes. His cock made a lazy roll in his pants.

He found her.

He crept closer. He was a big man, but athletic. Light on his feet.

Donnell stood with his pants pushed down around mid-thigh. Gloria was on her knees, sucking his cock. Donnell was bad news, the last one Joe wanted in the house. The girl was mesmerizing. Her hand pumped his shaft, her head enthusiastically following. Her blouse was open to her waist, exposing the thin straps of her bra and soft white of her tummy. Her hair shone in the dim light and wet sucking noises came from her mouth.

Her eyes fluttered open. Shock and fear registered on her face.

Joe kept his face neutral. He didn't want to appear too angry. To appear angry would be to get more involved than he already was, and he didn't need that. He also didn't want Gloria to register the slight fluttering in his belly or the way his cock was growing in his pants.

He needed to get Donnell out of his garage. Get Gloria back home to her aunt.

Get his evening back.

Gloria's eyes were wide open now, staring right at Joe.

She moved her hands to Donnell's thighs and tried to rise, to separate herself from the act she was performing on him, but Donnell had other plans. He put his hands on her head, drawing her in closer. He grunted, bucked his hips forward once, and then held her head tight.

Gloria fidgeted on her knees, panic in her eyes.

This was obviously what she wanted, but she couldn't have imagined anyone would watch her performance. Now Joe stood witness to her slutty behavior. He smiled at the irony—he'd met her in church. He knew her Aunt Louise but not very well. She'd volunteered Gloria for the babysitting job. He didn't need a sitter, but he got the sense that Gloria needed to prove something to her aunt, or vice versa, so he went along with the plan. In a small town like Carnal, you learned to accommodate your neighbor's needs.

Gloria blinked back her panic. Her weight settled back onto her knees. Closing her eyes, she nuzzled her face against his groin. He groaned, the muscles in his haunches tightening. She drew her brows together. The muscles in her throat worked and she made mewling noises.

Joe's cock swelled up like a fat sausage. She was having a meal.

When her eyes fluttered open, she looked up first, to gauge Donnell's satisfaction. Her hands rested on his thighs, her face flush.

"The fuck," Joe said. He kept his voice low, just a touch of menace.

Donnell jerked back, spinning his head and shoulders. His eyes met Joe's.

"Fuck outta here," Joe said.

Donnell grinned. He fumbled with his pants, his wet dick. He was older than Gloria, twenty or twenty-two. He laughed, but his eyes remained flat. "Fuck, man," Donnell snorted. "Fuck." He assembled his clothes.

"Hey," Joe hissed, impatience in his voice. "Molly." She didn't need to know any of this. She didn't want Gloria in the house. She wanted one of the kids from the block. Sometimes a woman could sense a troublemaker.

Donnell showed the white of his teeth.

Rising from her knees, Gloria stood close to Donnell, her hands fluttering over his muscled chest and arms. She searched his face, as if she were trying to determine what her own response should be.

His eyes met hers.

She pressed herself against him, craning her lips to his mouth.

Donnell straightened his back, a sour look on his face. He made a small sound of disbelief and looked at her with contempt. Gloria abruptly pulled back, as if she were slapped. She cut her eyes to Joe and then quickly looked away, cheeks rosy with shame.

Donnell murmured something.

She hurriedly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand then started buttoning her shirt. Donnell sauntered to the door, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Fuck it," he said. He grabbed between his legs. "I'm out. I'm out. I'm all the way out." He slipped out the door and then disappeared around the side of the house.

An engine started and tires chirped.

Joe locked the door.

Gloria looked at her feet, smoothing the fabric of her shirt. He didn't know what to say to her. Tipping her chin up with his fingertips, she twisted her head away from his touch. She refused to look in his eyes. "Do you want Molly to know?" he asked. He kept his tone even. Gentle. She might burst into tears and he didn't want that.

"She'll tell Louise," he said.

"I don't care," she said. Her voice was sullen, but at least she spoke. He could only imagine how humiliating it was for her right now.

"You're wet," he told her.

He offered her a bandanna from his back pocket. There was something wet just above her sternum, something else in her hair. He used the bandanna to dab at a damp spot on her cheek, averting his eyes from the shallow valley between her breasts.

"Wipe yourself," he said.

She took the kerchief from Joe. Her hand trembled, belying her youthful bluster. "You've got some in your hair, too," he said, trying to sound kind. Helpful.

The kids hollered from the house.

Molly called. She was coming.

Moving fast, Joe crossed the room and punched the button for the garage door. It kicked to life with a great mechanical yawn. Halfway up, he punched the button again. It stopped. Cool night air swirled into the garage.

"What are you two doing in here?" Molly asked.

"The door opened on its own again," Joe said. It was a lie. He didn't know why he was lying, but it was too late now. He punched the button. The door shuddered and made its way back along its tracks.

Molly narrowed her eyes.

Joe watched the door. "Gloria heard it go up," he said.

He nodded to Gloria. She was cleaning her face in the workbench mirror. Their eyes met and hers remained flat. Wary.

Molly put her fists on her hips.

Watching the door shudder into the full open position, she tilted her head and sighed. "Jesus," Molly said, looking at Gloria. "I'm sorry you had to deal with this bullshit."

Gloria smiled at Molly, then gazed back into the mirror.

"Get someone to look at it this time Joe," Molly said. "It's not safe."

Joe punched the button again.

The door came churning back down. He made a joke about the boogeyman slipping into the garage. Turning to Molly, he found Gloria looking at him through the glass. Their eyes met. She smirked, crinkling her nose. Had she ever smiled at him before? Joe couldn't be sure. Certainly it was her first smile since he'd found her in the garage tonight.

He kept his face even. Molly was watching.

Holding his eye, Gloria bit her lip. She dabbed the bandana into her cleavage.

His cock swelled.



Gloria was a sullen lump in the passenger seat. She hadn't said two words since they began the drive to her aunt's house. With her tight jeans and slim hips, she looked even more attractive, all pouty and grim. Pulling the car into the darkest part of the empty bank parking lot, Joe shut it down.

The engine ticked as it cooled.

Joe grinned at her. He got out and walked to the ATM machine. Crickets chirped. The cool June air felt good on his arms. He was a real estate agent, a good one. Used to getting his way. In his belly he felt that same slight fluttering as when he first found Gloria in the garage. The image of her on her knees at Donnell's feet popped into his mind. He'd seen fear, panic in her eyes. But then he'd noticed something else, something not so much in the frightened look that she gave him, or the way she surrendered to her circumstance, but in the way she then threw herself into satisfying her man, working his cock with her hands and mouth. The way she ignored everything else.

He punched in his numbers, listened to the ATM hum.

She'd liked it. She liked being watched. Liked performing for a man.

She was so young she probably didn't even realize it herself. Suddenly he decided to make another, much larger withdrawal—three hundred dollars. He worked the machine and grinned. She needed another audition, another chance to perform.

Getting back into the car, Joe found Gloria smoking.

"You got another one of those?" he asked.

Gloria tapped a cigarette out of her pack and silently handed it to him. Lighting up, he exhaled smoke. He put the cigarette in his mouth. Fanned the cash in his hand.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked. He counted through the bills, passing them from one hand to the other.

"You don't have to pay me anything," she said.

"No, no—I want to," he said. He peeled off five twenties and handed them to her. She looked at the money, but didn't move.

"Take it," he said, waving the cash toward her. "You earned it."

She looked at him, looked at the money in his hand.

"You don't have to do anything," he said. "It's yours."

She reached out, took the money.

Joe folded the rest of the bills in half and stuffed them into his shirt pocket. He chuckled and said, "That was some show back there—you and Donnell."

She blew cigarette smoke through her nose and laughed. Looked out the window.

"Funny?" he said.

She put the cigarette in her mouth. Folding the money in half, she lifted her bottom off the seat, and then slipped the folded bills into her front jean pocket.

"I watched you swallow it," Joe said. He watched her to see how she'd react to this kind of language. "You let him finish in your mouth."

She turned her head from him, looked out the window.

Flicking his cigarette out the window, Joe put his hand on her knee. "Nothing to be ashamed of, honey. You're a good looking girl." Her bony knee felt delicate under the tight denim. "Slim hips," he said, his voice low. "Dark skin."

Leaning toward her, he moved his hand across the back of her seat. His upper body now in her personal space, he put his other hand on her knee.

"Tight little body," he whispered. "Like an athlete. A model, a movie star."

She turned her head and Joe could see a hesitant little half-smile. She enjoyed this praise for her body, but she kept her head mostly averted, her body very still.

She wanted to play it coy.

"Nothing wrong with a little sex." Joe moved his hand to her thigh. "A girl your age."

Joe glanced out the windows and into the mirrors to make sure they were still alone. A light rain started to fall. Raindrops thumped the roof of the car. Moving his hand to the inside of her thigh, he returned his attention to her.

He moved his hand to her crotch, and she squirmed slightly, almost imperceptibly, in her seat. His fingers played across the intersection of thick seams and she drew in her breath. She was warm down there, maybe even a little damp.

Joe drew his hand back, then stroked his knuckles across her hip, the bare part of her waist where her blouse had drawn up.

"How'd it taste?" he whispered.

She looked at him sharply, her lips parted. Her eyes were hooded with lust and maybe even a little fear. Brushing his hand across her chest, he could just make out her nipples with his thumb. She burrowed down into the seat further, opening her legs. Joe put his hand on her pussy and stroked her. It was moist. She moved her hips forward to meet his hand and then he drew it away again. From somewhere down in her throat, she made a soft needy sound, a half whimper.

Joe checked all the windows and the mirrors again. They were fogging up.

She remained splayed out on the seat. Didn't move. Joe put his hand back on her thigh, and she looked up at him hungrily.

"How'd it taste?" he asked again, keeping his voice even.

She bit her lip, that needy look in her eye. Her cigarette had burned untouched in her hand and she flicked the long ash out the window, then changed her mind and tossed it all away. His fingers traced lazy circles on the inside of her thigh. She gave him that same look of resignation she wore in the garage.

"Salty," she said. "Hot." Taking his hand, she guided it between her legs.

He smiled.

"I liked it." Her voice was a throaty whisper.

"She liked it," Joe repeated, delighted.

He cupped her whole crotch with his hand, shoving all four of his fingers down between her legs. She raised her bottom to meet his palm, falling into a gentle rocking motion. He gently squeezed, kneading her cunt.

"Is that why your parents sent you to live with your aunt?" Joe whispered. She placed her palms flat on the seat, grinding her hips.

"Because you like filling your belly with your boyfriend's cum?" he asked.

She had her shoulders back and her nipples were hard little nubs in her blouse. Her mouth hung open, noisily taking in and expelling breath.

"Or because he's black?"

Joe stopped squeezing her pussy. He held her crotch, looking her square in the eyes.

She closed her mouth, licked her lips.

He waited for an answer.

"Black," she hissed, pressing her thighs together, trapping his fingers.

Joe snorted, pulling his hand from her cunt.

"Come on," she pleaded. She reached for his hand, a pained expression on her face. "Both," she said. Joe grinned, enjoying the urgency in her voice.

"Both," she said. "I can't help it."

He unbuttoned her pants, lowered her fly, and then ran his fingers under the elastic waist of her panties. Her skin was warm, her tummy rising and falling. He could just feel the edge of her pubic patch. She bit her lip. Joe wedged his hand into her pants, under her panties. He could feel the soft down of her pubic mound, the slick wetness of her slit.

She was a good girl. Willing, obedient.


She began working her hips to get off on his hand.

"Has he fucked you?" he asked. "Put that black cock in you?"

She immediately shook her head. Her lower lip was white where she had her teeth clamped down. Her blind obedience made his cock throb.

"Such a pretty girl," he whispered. "So easy, so eager."

The cab of the car went eerily quiet, except for an occasional grunt from her exertion. Her eyes screwed shut, she remained intent on moving her hips to maximize her pleasure against his hand. Joe didn't try to penetrate her or do much of anything. She did the work. He kept his hand in her pants, his fingers pressed against the hot pit of her clitoris.

Moving his lips near her ear, he watched her face.

He waited.

When she was very close, he whispered to her.

"Slutty. Little girl."

Her eyes shot open.

"Black lover," he whispered.

Gloria clamped her thighs on his hand, a disgusted, frightened expression on her face. Her bottom came off the seat. She held herself stiff and moaned, a low guttural sound that filled the car. Joe laughed, a series of soft, breathy exhales. Cupping his hand over her slippery pussy, he watched her writhe. He whispered that she was a pretty little whore, a cocksucker. She accepted it from him. She had to. He was echoing the messages her parents and loved ones were sending her. She crashed back into the car seat, breathing heavy.

He gave her wet pussy one last lusty squeeze, then pulled his hand from her pants.

Joe sat back and opened his pants. Reaching into his boxers, he hauled out his hard cock. It felt good to free it from his pants. It was pink, sculpted and long. It swayed in his lap, pointing at the ceiling.

Gloria sat wide eyed, hands pressed to her face.

"Mr. Murphy," she whispered. She spoke through her hands, her voice pitiful and scared. "Mr. Murphy." She cleared her throat and made an embarrassed little laugh.

"I have a boyfriend."

Joe smiled. "You do," he said. He laughed.

He didn't understand. He thought she was telling him the obvious and then suddenly he realized she was trying to express something different. She felt conflicted. She didn't want to cheat on Donnell. It was sweet. He reached for her hair with the tips of his fingers and she turned her head away. He withdrew his hand and grinned.

"It won't take you long," he said. His cock swayed lewdly in his lap.

Gloria looked out the front window. She looked out the back. Her mouth hung open. She didn't bother to button her pants.

He sat silently waiting for her, his naked cock an indictment and an invitation.

She gazed into his lap, kneeling on the seat.

When she got up on her knees, he knew she was going to do it. He wasn't sure if it was the money he'd given her, the orgasm, or the language. Maybe it was the whole lusty bundle. It didn't matter. He sat in the driver's seat like some Arab pasha, arms spread across the upholstery, his hard cock waiting for her attention. She tucked her hair behind her ear and inched her head toward his lap.

She stopped. "This is so fucked up," she said.

She twisted her head around.

He grinned. He tried to think of something clever to say but nothing came to mind. It was fucked up. He was hard. He wanted her warm mouth on his cock. She pointed her chin toward his lap and then her hands were on his shaft and her moist mouth followed.

He groaned.

She was good. A good cocksucker.

Her hand pumped his shaft and her mouth followed. She took his sack in her hand and compressed his balls. He wasn't going to last long. He didn't care. He didn't bother to warn her either. He already knew she swallowed. He'd watched her. Her head went down, and he took her silky hair in both his hands, holding her fast.

He bucked his hips.

"That's a girl," he said. "This's for you."

She knew what was coming and whimpered even before the cum started to flow. Her hands went to his thighs. He held her head and groaned as the cum flew from his cock.

"Eat," he whispered, teeth clenched.

He held her head as if it were some sort of cheap sex toy he'd picked up at a truck stop. As if her delicate mouth were nothing more than a round O-shape, fabricated to be about the size of a man's prick, with drawn-on lips at the opening. He grunted as he came, thrusting his hips forward. No sounds came from her, his cheap toy. Soon his prick stopped spitting its salty juice and he relaxed his grip on her head. As soon as he finished, he wanted her off his cock. It was spent and sensitive, and he wanted it to rest in his lap, untouched. He petted her head, letting his hand wander down her neck, her spine. He didn't want to manhandle her. He gave her time. He could afford to be magnanimous, he'd just come in her mouth.

Soon she moved her head, her torso.

Her hands went to his prick.

She raised her head, bringing her lips to a close at the tip. With a wet sucking noise, she separated her mouth from his cockhead. You couldn't get that from a toy. She held her head above his lap for a moment. He craned his head to see what she was doing and realized she was only now swallowing his spunk.

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