Miss Ridge, The Babysitter


She next hooked her thumbs into the thong's waistband at her hips and slid the little piece of cloth down in a single motion. She stepped out and dropped it on the bed beside her bra. From the back, her beautifully rounded butt looked as soft and inviting as before, and when she turned around, I caught sight, for the first time, of a neatly trimmed triangle of black, downy hair that covered her pussy. She placed a hand on her stomach and pulled up on the skin to get a better look at her pubic hair, and then she combed her fingers through it softly to straighten it out.

Next, she picked up the dress from the bed and wriggled it on over her head. She pulled at the material and pushed at her body parts until the little amount of the former covered the better parts of the latter. How could this not be a slip? The hem of the dress barely fell below the top of her stockings, and each time she took a step, the top bands of her hose peeked into view.

She clicked over to a full-length mirror in the corner and checked herself out from different angles. Satisfied, she strutted back to the centre of the room and looked over at me. "So what do you think," she asked hopefully.

"Fantastic," I replied honestly.

"No, don't just say that. I won't get mad. Tell me what you really think."

"Fantastic," I repeated.

"Really?" she giggled. "Not bad for 54, eh?"

"Amazing," I replied.

She giggled again but then went quiet. Lost in thought, she sauntered slowly over to the side of the bed nearest me. She sat down on the edge and looked up contemplatively.

"Timothy, you know that I don't want to be angry with you, don't you?"

"Yes, Miss Ridge."

She spread her legs, causing her dress to ride up her thighs and almost expose her dark, downy hair. "Come here, Timothy," she commanded, patting the mattress between her outstretched thighs.

I walked slowly up to the spot she had indicated and stood between her legs. My cock dangled incautiously in front of her face.

"Kneel down," she said, and I complied. My eyes were at about the level of her chin. She combed her fingers through my hair a couple of times and then caressed the side of my face. "I want to trust you, Timothy. I want to know that you intend to obey me implicitly. Do you want to be a good boy?"

"Yes, Miss Ridge."

"Are you going to follow all of my orders in the future?"

"Yes, Miss Ridge."

"Are you sorry for all the bad things that you have done tonight?"

"Yes, Miss Ridge."

She ran her fingers through my hair again and looked closely at me. "Really?"

I tried to look and sound sincere. "Yes, Miss Ridge."

She smiled, and then she reached down and stroked my cock. ... Ohhh!! ... Her cheek rested against mine, and her other hand wrapped around the back of my neck. Then she leaned back and looked directly into my eyes. "Timothy, if you are truly sorry, I want you to show me that you are." The hand around my neck drew my head gently towards her, and her other hand lifted up the hem of her dress.

I followed her lead without resistance, and she guided my face right onto her bush. She looked down at me from above. "Show me that you want my forgiveness, Timothy," she said softly and then pulled my face the rest of the way in. My lips met her lower lips, and so I kissed them, causing her to sigh.

Now, admittedly, this was a great position to be in, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I was a shunned nerd at school, after all. Luckily, there didn't seem to be many options. I tried sticking out my tongue and licking, and that caused her to moan even louder, so I continued doing that. Kissing and licking, and kissing and licking, and licking and licking and licking ...

She moaned and squirmed, which really turned me on. The louder she got, the more committed I became to the effort. Soon, she seemed to be getting wet from other than my saliva, and the smell became more pungent, but in a good way.

When her pubic hair started to get in the way, I wrapped my arm under, around and then over her thigh so that I could use my fingers to pull her hair away. This also caused her lips to separate, and a little nub of skin appeared. I licked that, and she pulled my face forcefully in against her pussy, her fingernails digging into my skull. ... I took that to be a good sign.

I focused my licking on the little nub. I licked and licked and licked, and the little nub vibrated up and down under my tongue. Finally, I brought my other hand up to move some more hair away and accidentally pushed a fingertip inside her. She really, really liked that, so I tried to move it in and out as I licked continually on her nub. After I did that for a while, she grabbed onto the back of my head and bucked her pussy furiously into my mouth and finger. "Ohh ... Ohh ... Ohh ... Anghnnn unghnnn ... AHHHHH!!!" she yelled out at the end.

I was prepared to keep going, but she pulled my head and hands off of herself quickly, while her body continued to spasm. Finally, she flopped back onto the bed and became quiet. Continuing to kneel between her legs, I didn't know what to do, so I just kept still. I looked at her wet bush and saw little beads of moisture clinging to the fine strands of hair. Under her seat, the sheet on the bed looked soaked completely through.

Finally, she sat back up, grabbed the back of my head with her hand and kissed me hard on the lips. With her face still close to mine and a smile on her lips, she whispered, "Apology accepted."

*** The Visitors ***

Miss Ridge stood up, moved around me and became more business-like. "All right, get up Timothy, my guests will be here any minute." I got off my knees and backed myself rigidly against the wall, while Miss Ridge moved over to the mirror. She did some final straightening, touched up her make-up, and fluffed out her hair.

Looking at her watch, she turned around and stepped hurriedly towards the door. "Come along. We are running out of time." She passed quickly in front of me, and I followed in behind. Her light silky dress swished wildly over her hustling ass cheeks, and her heels clicked loudly in cadence with her rapid pace. In the passion of our co-mingling, I had developed a bit of an erection, and my semi-firm pole was now whipping back and forth in front of me as we rushed down the hall. The smell of Miss Ridge's juices lingered on my lips and sustained my arousal.

"Click, click, click, click, click, ..." her heels tapped out a rapid beat in front of me as she turned into the living room. "I need you for a second in the kitchen," she called out over her shoulder, "And then we'll get you settled in your room to study." Like a puppy dog, I followed in behind her unquestioningly.

In the kitchen, she proceeded directly to one of the cupboards and opened the door. "Timothy," she motioned to the top shelf, "I want the long-stemmed glasses in the back. Would you be a dear and get them down for me?" They were pretty far back, and I had to climb on a kitchen chair to get at them. In the meantime, Miss Ridge hustled over to the refrigerator and began extracting nibblies.

"These?" I asked, holding what I thought she meant in my hand. I felt a little like a Grecian statue perched naked with a knee on the counter, a foot on the chair and my genitals dangling in full view.

"Yes, that's right," she confirmed ... and then the doorbell rang. My heroic Greek pose now suddenly felt very vulnerable. I grabbed the glasses and scrambled down from the counter. Miss Ridge straightened her dress and turned to go answer the door.

Whooaaa!! She was forgetting that we have a clothing problem here. "Miss Ridge," I whispered emphatically, "I'm not dressed!"

She spun around immediately and snapped a stern scowl at me. ... Shoot! I've done it again. ... But then her face softened. She seemed to realize that we did have a problem. Quickly, she scanned the room and then clicked over to the stove. Hanging on the handle of the oven was a small white apron. She snatched it up and threw it across to me. "Here," she said in a rush as she sped back towards the door, "Put that on."

No doubt about it, she was crazy. I glanced down at the little piece of cloth in my hand. It certainly wasn't one of those big, barbeque aprons; it was just a small semi-circle of cotton that would barely cover my lap. It almost looked like it had come from a fetish French maid costume.

I wrapped the straps around my back and tied them as best I could. The lower hem of the apron extended barely below my balls. I pulled down on its bottom edge in an attempt to stretch it out, but I only succeeded in loosening the knot in the back. There was hardly enough material in it for someone to wipe their hands. What the heck was Mother doing with it anyways? Its functionality was lost on me.

In the next room, the cackling of women's voices reminded me that I was still in a predicament. I would have to find a way of sneaking through the living room to my room while they were distracted.

Would Miss Stern take them on a tour of the house? ... Not likely. ... Would she take them over to one part of the room to show them a picture or something so that their backs might be turned? ... Possibly, but perhaps not. ... Think ... think ... think ... Would they ..."Timothy?"

My concentration was shattered by the sound of my name being called. In the kitchen doorway, I looked up to see Miss Ridge extending her arm into the room as a guide. "Timothy, I think that you know Anne Tyson and Priscilla Grundy," she announced cheerfully as the two ladies entered on cue.

My jaw dropped. What was she doing leading them to me? ... Wait! Did she say Tyson and Grundy? I did know these women; they were both teaching associates of Miss Ridge! Miss Tyson, who we used to call Tight Skin, was the hard-body, girls' physical education instructor at the school, and Mrs. Grundy was the old librarian who used to shush students during study periods. Now I was going to stand before both of them with nothing on but about one square foot of thin, white linen. I blushed from head to foot.

Mrs. Grundy entered first and halted immediately. On seeing me, she went almost completely white, and I feared that she might even faint. Miss Tyson, on the other hand, skipped around Mrs. Grundy, and when she realized what she was seeing, she flashed me the most evil grin. She looked back over her shoulder and chided, "Janet, you didn't say that you had entertainment."

"Now, Anne," Miss Ridge replied dismissively.

Mrs. Grundy was wearing a black with white trim, lapel-less wool suit that said "prim and proper," while Miss Tyson had a look that said "casual ... and hot!" She had on a pair of tight, black leather pants and an even tighter, bright red, cashmere cardigan. Of the sweater's seven buttons, only the middle two were closed, resulting in the exposure of an immodestly ample cleavage and an exceptionably flat midriff.

Miss Tyson approached me slowly, like she was stalking a prey, taking in eyefuls of my nearly naked body as she advanced. "Well ... well ... well ..., Mr. Walker," she purred, extending me her hand, which I took. "You look all grown up." She grasped my hand and then slid her other hand up my arm to my shoulder as she moved in. When she nestled in beside me, her moving hand traced over my shoulder and then down my back. When it reached my butt, she took a big handful of cheek and squeezed it firmly. "Yessss. All grown up," she added.

"Anne!" Miss Ridge snapped. "Leave the poor boy alone. Let's go into the living room, shall we?"

Miss Tyson gave me a fake pout and started to leave. Mrs. Grundy was still in shock, and so Miss Ridge had to turn her around by her shoulders and usher her out. Before the room cleared, Miss Tyson returned to stand in front of me. With a whimsical look on her face, she reached down teasingly, pinched the bottom hem of my apron and drew it up away from my body. My genitals came into view, and Miss Tyson girlishly opened her mouth wide in a mock look of shock.

"Anne!!" Miss Ridge barked from the doorway, realizing that one of her guests had dawdled. Miss Tyson dropped the cloth immediately in a fake display of being caught and then bit her lower lip in a very sensual look of sad denial. She then turned on her heels and skipped out of the kitchen.

Alone again, I shivered at the excitement of what had just occurred ... and my erection started to return.

Miss Ridge returned from her ushering and grabbed the plate of munchies. "Timothy," she said distractedly, "Be a dear and bring out some white wine and the glasses." And then she returned to her guests.

I was still a little stunned. Was I the only one to see the impropriety of what was going on here? Well, I took it that Mrs. Grundy was on my side, but that didn't help much. I thought about just marching straight to my room, but I feared the consequences of that display of disobedience. Anyway, I guessed that the harm had already been done. How much more embarrassing could this get?

I grabbed the glasses that I had placed on the counter and walked into the living room to set them out. With my penis firming up, I could feel the apron bouncing off of it as I walked.

Miss Ridge was speaking as I entered, "... so Ruth phoned me up and asked me to stay over. Thank you, dear." I placed a glass on the coffee table in front of her. She continued, "I didn't think to ask about it, but I don't see why we couldn't use the house for the event ..."

At the end of the couch closest to Miss Ridge sat Mrs. Grundy. I sidled over to give her a glass. She continued to look shocked at my presence. When I bent over to place her glass down, her eyes darted to my groin and caught a peek at my dangling member under the apron as the cloth floated out of the way. Realizing her indiscretion, she jerked her head away to stare straight ahead ... at nothing.

"... when she phones next time and I'll just ask her. You know that she is a big supporter, and she would be the first ..."

I moved around the room to the end of the couch nearest the kitchen where Miss Tyson was sitting. I went to put her glass down on the table in front of her when she placed her cell phone down on the exact spot that I was headed for. It forced me to bend over more and put the glass a little further down the table. As I reached over, I felt her hand slide up the back of my leg and onto my ass. Her finger traced lightly down my ass crack and then moved between my legs. She continued to listen intently to Miss Ridge, while her hand's wanderings were covered by the apron. As I stood up, she pulled her hand away before I squeezed it between my thighs, but she managed to tickle my balls a little before its escape.

"... as many women as last year. So I think that we should focus instead on the size of their donations ..."

I returned to the kitchen, grabbed the wine out of the refrigerator and pulled the cork. Miss Tyson's fondling had been sufficient to get me excited. My apron was starting to stick out a little more than it should. I bent over a bit to give the material a more natural fall, but I knew that the problem was going to get worse. I returned to the living room with the opened bottle.

It was Miss Tyson who was speaking now. "... No, all I'm saying is that the women would go nuts for it. If Tim walked around dressed like that, they would be donating money like crazy ..."

I walked over to Miss Ridge and bent down to fill up her ... Wait a minute! What was that about me?

"I can't ask him to do that, Anne," objected Miss Ridge, "Besides, he's got exams, and I promised his mother that he would spend his time studying."

I almost overfilled Miss Ridge's glass as I tuned into the conversation. I edged over to pour for Mrs. Grundy, who was still staring into the distance, although I thought I saw her peek once or twice under my swaying apron.

"Oh, nonsense, Janet," Miss Tyson countered, "He doesn't look the least bit embarrassed in front of us. I'm sure that he would be more than happy to do it if he knew it was for charity ..."

I walked around the room again to get to Miss Tyson's place. She had two fingers on the base of her glass, and when I bent down to pour, she slowly slid the glass away, making me bend over more again. As I reached, I felt her hand slide between my legs and fondle my balls. I thought that it must have been very conspicuous, but the way she was talking distracted everyone's attention from her activity. Her fingers were very playful, and my erection grew with every tweak and pull.

"... straight A student when I knew him, and I bet his marks are just as good today," concluded Miss Tyson. "Tim, sit down." She patted the seat between herself and Mrs. Grundy. "We're talking about you anyways, so you might as well join us."

Miss Tyson pulled me off balance to get me onto the couch, but in my attempt to recover, I ended up falling onto Mrs. Grundy and spilling some wine down her cleavage. My chest smacked into her face, and when I tried to right myself, I sat down on one of her hands. I could feel her fingers spread around one of my ass cheeks. I hopped over quickly and sat down on the spot that Miss Tyson had been indicating. Mrs. Grundy looked mortified. "Sorry," I offered.

"Oh, let him go get some studying done," complained Miss Ridge.

I tried to stand up, but Miss Tyson pushed me back down. Taking the wine bottle out of my hands, she ordered me to stay. Then she continued her discussion, "He's not going to be able to work tonight anyways. He's probably so worked up that, if he went back to his room right now, he'd be jacking off from now until breakfast."

"My word!" exclaimed Mrs. Grundy.

"Oh, Priscilla, please!" countered Miss Tyson. "You've been checking out his package since we arrived. ... Here, shall we just take a peek and see how aroused he is." She flipped up the apron, and my hard-on stood proudly straight and tall. I sucked in a breath at the shock of being exposed.

"I never!" gasped Mrs. Grundy. "Anne! Really!!" protested Miss Ridge.

Miss Tyson let the apron fall, but her hand sneaked underneath and wrapped around my shaft. With the on-going discussion, no one seemed to notice her slowly stroke me under the cloth. "Oh, please, Janet!" Miss Tyson shot back accusingly, "Are you going to tell me that you weren't prancing around naked in front of him before we got here." Miss Ridge blushed noticeably. The apron moved slowly up and down in my lap, and a warm friction ran along my sensitive skin.

"Anne!! You've gone too far!" Miss Ridge retorted.

"Oh?!!" Miss Tyson exclaimed in mock surprise. "Then stand up and lift up your dress, Janet. If you're wearing underwear, then I will take it all back. ... Come on ... Stand up ..." But Miss Ridge was caught out. She just scowled at her accuser. "I thought so!" cried Miss Tyson in triumph, "I know you too well!" Her rubbing was gentle and unrelenting. I was not going to be able to last very long if she didn't stop.

"Face it, Janet," continued Miss Tyson, "He's like any other young boy we know. If you really want this little pervert to hit the books, you're going to have to pound his pecker so often this week that studying becomes a welcome alternative." The rubbing kept on and on and on.

"Anne!" Miss Ridge objected, "Must you be so vulgar?!! And what are you doing down there?!!"

"All I'm saying, Janet ...," Miss Tyson began to reply but stopped. "Here, Priscilla, help me out, will ya?" She grabbed Mrs. Grundy's hand and forced it onto my shaft.

"Miss Tyson!" Mrs. Grundy expressed her alarm but didn't remove her hand. Miss Tyson guided her to resume the stroking and then fished behind my back to untie the apron. Mrs. Grundy's fingers barely gripped my penis, and I could feel her hand trembling as it pumped.

"Anne, stop it!" ordered Miss Ridge. "I cannot allow this to continue!"

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