BabySitter Grown

Babysitters are useful people. At times they're almost like one of the family. If you use the same sitter for a number of years you watch them grow, along with your own children. Of course, they're not your children so you don't pay as much attention to them as you do your own, so it always comes as a bit of a shock when you realise they're no longer pre-adults but actual young adults.

I got a hell of a shock when I was at the local park with the kids and they suddenly deserted the play equipment and went running over to a couple of people who were making out on one of the park benches. I got an even bigger shock when the young woman picked up my youngest and bounced her on her knee. It was a 'Hey! That's my kid' moment but, fortunately before I could speak, I recognized Cathy, the kid who baby-sits for me at times.

I strolled over to say hullo and to chase the kids back to the equipment, but did take the chance to say sotto voce to Cathy that wasn't she a bit young to be making out in the park. Or anywhere, for that matter. She laughed at me. How was I to know that not only was she old enough to make out but also old to do a damn sight more if she wanted to, although not in public. When the hell had she turned eighteen? Months ago, apparently.

I don't know. I needed a baby-sitter a month later and Cathy was available. Maybe it was the fact that it had been several years since my wife passed away, or maybe it was the fact that I knew she was eighteen and I'd seen her snuggling with her boyfriend. Maybe it was the weather. Whatever it was, I now saw Cathy as a desirable young woman when she came around.

It wasn't helped by the fact that it was a warmish day and Cathy was wearing what I believe are called tights and a loose t-shirt that wasn't tucked in. I was willing to swear that she wasn't wearing a bra. What was worse, from my point of view, was that when she bent over to pick up my youngest her top rode up somewhat and her tights were, well, tight. Especially across the buttocks. The smooth flow of her curves gave not the faintest hint of a panty line, leaving me wondering. I just assumed bare minimum and that she was wearing a thong. At least, I hoped she was wearing a thong.

I tried to act naturally, as though I hadn't noticed that Cathy had grown and I felt I pulled it off successfully. After all, I'd seen plenty of other attractive little dears and hadn't gone fawning after them. It was just switching my mindset to register Cathy as one of them. I kissed the kids good night, waved to Cathy, and went on my way.

While out I persuaded myself that nothing had changed. I'd just over-reacted to the suddenly noticed change in Cathy. I'd get home and she'd be the same old Cathy, laughing and smiling and telling me about the antics the kids had got up to.

It turned out that I'd been lying to myself. When I got back it was still the new Cathy, laughing and smiling and telling me about the antics the kids had got up to, and oozing sex appeal all over the damn place. Mentally slapping myself around I tried to relax.

Knowing what time I'd be back, Cathy had put the kettle on, preparing to make coffee. She told me to sit down in the front room and she'd bring the coffee in. I relaxed on the lounge and Cathy came in with the coffee.

She leaned over the coffee table to put my mug in front of me and I tried valiantly to recover from a heart attack, followed closely by a lust attack. I mentioned Cathy was wearing a t-shirt. My t-shirts have the neckline at the neck. Cathy's t-shirt was somewhat more generous with the neck line, coming down in a V that reached to just above her breasts. She didn't have any cleavage on display but she did have a nice presentation to that t-shirt.

When she leaned over to give me my coffee the neck of the t-shirt gaped, giving me a view clear down to her naval. I could actually see her naval. All I had to do was look past those two swinging breasts that were on display and there it was. I'd been right about the no-bra bit. Cathy must have forgotten, as I'm sure she didn't intend to give me such a view of her charms.

There's an old adage that states once is an accident, twice is coincidence, and three times is enemy action. The second time I got that view I sweated it out and thanked the good lord for coincidence. The third time I knew damn well that the rotten bitch was doing it deliberately. Her eyes were sparkling with enjoyment while she put on the most innocent look you could imagine.

Coffee over I stood up and stretched. Cathy rose from the chair she was in and bent down (again) to pick up the empty mugs.

"Leave them for a moment, Cathy," I told her, touching her shoulder to draw her attention to me.

She turned to look at me and I pulled her t-shirt forward slightly and slipped my hands up into it, reaching for and finding two lovely globes. They were soft and warm with a little hard button in the centre of each breast. Knowing buttons are supposed to be pressed, I did so, my thumbs finding them and rotating them even as I pressed.

Cathy gave a squeak of outrage, faux outrage in my opinion.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "You can't do that."

Really? I thought I just had.

"Sorry, Cathy," I said apologetically. "I don't know what got into me."

My hands reluctantly left her breasts, sliding down and around and under. To clarify that, my hands went down her sides, around to her backside, and under her tights, finding and cupping a nice warm bottom.

Cathy was outraged all over again. Me, I asked where her panties were, because I couldn't feel any under her tights.

"You take your hands out of there," she hissed at me and I sighed.

"If you insist," I grumbled, pulling my hands free. This time they settled at her sides, took her t-shirt and lifted. Pulling it straight up found Cathy automatically raising her arms and I had her t-shirt off just like that.

I tossed it onto the nearest chair, looking over the revealed goodies. She was torn between covering her breasts and having them admired, her hands fluttering near them but not on them.

"You, you, you can't do that," she said again.

"Don't be silly, love. Of course I can. I just did. And don't tell me I can't do this because as you will see, I'm doing it."

'This' was my hands taking hold of her tights and drawing them down, pushing them down to her ankles. I left them there while she just stood there with her mouth open, looking slightly shocked.

"Use your toes to pull them right off," I suggested. "Ah, you're looking slightly surprised. Weren't you expecting to be naked?"

"Why would I expect to be naked?" she asked, her voice a controlled scream.

"Why not? You wanted to be. And you shouldn't think of it as being naked."

"I did not want it," she protested. "And how should I think of it?"

"Think of it as being naked, IN FRONT OF A MAN. Think of it as being in your natural state in front of a man who is going to take his clothes off. Think of it as a preliminary requirement to being laid on your back on the couch and having the man partake of your sweet pleasures."

"Oh, and you won't really be naked until you get those silly tights off from around your feet."

Cathy glared at me and gave a couple of kicks, freeing her feet from the tights. There wasn't much else she could do really. She needed them off so she could straighten them up prior to putting them back on.

"I've never been so insulted," she snapped at me. "You just pull off my clothes and tell me you're going to have sex with me. Think again. It's not going to happen."

"Where's the insult?" I asked. "All women are flattered if a man wants to have sex with them. It shows that they're attractive. It doesn't matter if they intend to say yes or no, they're secretly flattered to be asked. Um, may I point out I wasn't asking?"

"What? You most definitely were. You said you wanted to have sex with me on the couch."

"Wrong interpretation of what I said. Asking you indicates that you have the right to make a decision. Seeing I'm going to take you no matter what you decide I don't see much sense in formally asking you."

Cathy went a little pale at that comment.

"Are you saying you're going to rape me?" she demanded.

"No. I'm saying that I've decided that I will accept the kind invitation you proffered to me," I said. "Or should I say invitations, plural?"

"What the hell are you talking about? I haven't offered any invitations and you know it."

I was openly laughing at her as I reached down and picked up her t-shirt. I dangled it in front of her breasts.

"One, when you gave me my coffee," I said, lowering the t-shirt to reveal her breasts and then lifting it again. "Two, when you put your own coffee down. Three, when you went to pick up the empty mugs. Number four was in there somewhere but that was a just for fun display."

"Just because I forgot I wasn't wearing a bra and you got a bit of a peep show does not mean I was offering anything else!"

"Uh-huh. And the panties?"

"What panties?" she demanded, and then blushed. "Um, I didn't want a panty line showing."

"You are telling fibs," I said pleasantly. "You'd decided on seduction before you even left home. Even now, despite your protests, your nipples are pointing at me and begging for attention."

I was smiling and she was fuming, giving me irritated looks. Things weren't going the way she had expected. I suspect that I was supposed to be pleading with her or making a determined effort to please her. Before she could open her mouth to issue a blanket refusal and condemnation of me and my behaviour I got in first.

"Aside from the sex, which we both agree that you want, would you like a spanking first?"

"Spanking? Why on earth would I want a spanking?" She sounded completely taken aback at the suggestion.

"It would be something to warm you up as well as punish you for being a naughty girl and trying to seduce me. Can't you imagine it? There's me sitting on the couch, fully dressed, with you lying naked across my lap, getting your bottom paddled. You'd be horribly aware that you are small and delicate and female and naked, and that you're helpless before this man who is chastising you. I think you'll find it a total turn on and you'll be fully aroused by the time I get around to actually taking you."

While I was saying this I was backing up to the couch, holding her wrist and drawing her with me. Before I'd finished I was sitting on the couch, steering her across my knee.

"Wait," came a quick cry. "I haven't agreed to a spanking. Or sex, either."

I rubbed my hand lightly over her bottom, following the curve around until my hand was neatly covering her mound, feeling the heat there. It also seemed to me that there was a certain amount of dampness there. My hand slid smoothly back to finish up on her bottom.

"Well, we'll see how it goes anyway," I told her and, lifting my hand, I brought it back down for a nice firm spank.

I didn't lift my hand back for a second spank. Not immediately. I traced my earlier movements, following her curves until I was lightly rubbing her mound. Then I lifted my hand for the second spank.

When I delivered the second spank my free hand also slid around until I was cupping her breast, holding it firmly to show her it was mine to hold. It's called creating a state of confusion. She couldn't decide whether to protest the spank, the hand holding her breast, or the way I caressed her mound after the spank. She finished up complaining about none of them, just moving restlessly under my touch.

After each spank my hand would slip down and massage her mound, feeling her heat increasing, knowing she was getting wetter, like it or not. Soon my fingers were dipping between her lips, touching her internally, stoking her fires. When one hand lifted for another spank my other hand would rub her breast and tease her nipple, making sure that she was being teased constantly.

Her breast seemed to swell beneath my hand and her labia were definitely swelling, puffing up and letting her inner lips protrude, with her inner lips clamouring for their share of the attention. She was breathing hard, twisting about on my lap, her excitement rapidly rising.

Time, I decided, to get on with the main event. I twisted around, lying her down on the couch while I rose to my feet. She lay there, chest heaving slightly under her heavy breathing, looking at me with a slightly glazed stare.

I stripped, and I stripped fast. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw how ready I was but she still didn't say anything. She lay there, watching me, as I gently eased her legs further apart. No force required, just a gentle touch to the inside of her knee and her leg drifted off to the side.

I lingered for a while, just kneeling between her thighs, letting my erection probe lightly at her lips. She was twisting about slightly as I prodded her. I think she was trying to line herself up with me. I could hear her muttering softly but I couldn't quite catch what she was saying. Probably fortunate because I don't think it was complimentary.

"Now?" I asked softly and she nodded her head, then gave a sigh of relief when I drove firmly forward, taking her fully with a single vigorous stroke.

I have to admit that I'd been a trifle nervous about that. I was pretty sure she wasn't a virgin but if I'd been wrong I might have hurt her. As it was, she reared up to meet me as I thrust forward, her legs rising to close around me and draw me in faster and deeper. With that initial entry leaving me fully sheathed I was quite happy to hold it for a moment, enjoying the feel of her wrapped around me.

Nice though it was to just lie against her soft flesh, nicely embedded, it wasn't long before I wanted more. From the way Cathy was starting to press against me she also wanted more. The next time she started to press up against me I pressed back, then withdrew a little.

We didn't go straight into long full-bodied strokes. We started small, a gentle coming together and easing apart. Bit by bit the parting got greater and the coming together came faster. Eventually we had a very nice system going which basically consisted of me trying my best to drive my cock right through her while she bucked up against me, helping me to meet my aim.

I was breathing hard. I couldn't really be blamed for that because I was working hard, putting my best foot forward. (OK. So it wasn't a foot. It was still long enough to do the job.) Cathy wasn't exactly breathing hard, as such. It was more a case of she was catching her breath in time to let out an excited squeak as she pushed up to meet me. If squeaks per minute are an indication of how well you're going I would have to say that I was doing OK. I was thoroughly enjoying myself, almost intoxicated by the feel of Cathy against my own sensitive flesh, not wanting this to end any time soon.

How long does it take to satisfy someone? Too long and not long enough. I took Cathy hard and she was with me every step of the way, relishing what we were doing. It was one of those occasions when you want the climax but you don't want to stop what you're doing as it is its own reward. Trouble is you can't stop Mother Nature.

I was quite willing to keep going all night, but along came old Ma Nature and she planted a foot square in my testicles. It reached a point where I couldn't hold off any longer and I gave my all to Cathy just as hard as I could. Fortunately, Mother Nature is an equal opportunity force, and I was gratified to find Cathy climaxing along with me. Nice to get our new relationship of to a good start. (Assuming we now had a new relationship.)

Once we'd both recovered enough to talk I had a question for Cathy. I knew she still lived at home with her parents.

"What," I asked, "was your mother thinking of to let you out of the house without underwear? From what I know of her she was always rather straight-laced."

"Um," said Cathy, looking elsewhere. "It's possible that I, uh, might have a set of underwear in my bag."

"I see. A matched set?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Why?"

"An old wives tale. If you seduce a girl and find she's wearing matched underwear, it wasn't you doing the seducing."

I paused for a moment, considering.

"You know, I can't think of what it means if she had matched undies and wasn't actually wearing them."

Would you believe she hit me? I got a bruise, right there on my arm.