BabySitter Rape

I'm an eighteen year old virgin and a babysitter and I was going to be raped. What do you do in a situation like this? The answer is quite simple. Just review everything that has led up to this situation and see if there's anything you should have done differently.

Let me give you some background. I live in a relatively small town. Everyone knows everyone else's business. You just try to keep a secret. A secret only stays a secret when there's a maximum of two people who know it and they both have a vested interest in not letting the secret get out.

So I'm a virgin in a small town and I want to be an ex-virgin living in a small town. What I do not want is for it to be generally known that I'm now an ex-virgin. Give a girl a rep like that and the old women of both sexes would have me tarred and feathered for ever.

So how does one get rid of their virginity discreetly? Visit the nearest city and get picked up by a stranger and seduced? Too dangerous and for a single girl to visit the city unchaperoned? The gossips would have a field day wondering did she or didn't she, and they'd probably opt for she did, and there goes my reputation, sliced to bits by vicious tongues.

Pick one of the local boys and let him seduce you? Appealing with a couple of the boys, but boys talk. Don't tell me they don't. Any time a boy fucks a new girl the news generally beats the girl home. So scratch the local boys. That's boys my age I'm referring to.

Next option, what single men are available? Too few, too unappealing and too many drawbacks. There's generally a reason they're unmarried, and they'd try to pressure a girl into marrying them. Or boast about how they scored.

This leaves me with the married men. There were several of the right age who wouldn't mind a little on the side. The trouble there, of course, is the bragging or the confession. They tell their mates and word gets around or, worse, they tell their wife and all hell breaks loose.

You can see where this is heading, can't you. I had to be deflowered by a husband in the sort of situation where he wouldn't dare boast or confess. I had to be raped.

I know what you're thinking. Why not get myself raped by one of the boys my age? Because they'd probably brag about it anyway, claiming I was willing.

Mr Anders was my rapist of choice. His wife was currently away looking after her sick mother and he'd been stuck home looking after two small children for the last fortnight. His mother watched them while he was at work but he was stuck at home every night. Except Friday night, when he was going for a drink with the boys and I was going to babysit.

Now Mr Anders did not have the name for being a hard drinker. He tended to stop after a couple, just relaxing. He was in his mid-twenties, which isn't too old for my tastes, he's fit and, as far as I can tell, healthy.

I prepared for the sitting appointment carefully. A dark coloured button-up blouse. The dark colour would tend to hide the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra and buttons are so easy to undo. There'd be no need for Mr Anders to have to try to rip it off over my head.

A short flirty skirt that would show off my bikini panties when I turned around fast or whenever I bent over. Dark coloured tights, of course, to present the properly modest appearance. My dad always tends to check what I'm wearing when I leave the house and he seemed happy that I was presenting a nice modest appearance.

Then I was out of the house and off to my job. The weather was a bit hot I decided. It would only be reasonable to undo the top button or two of my blouse. It showed a little cleavage but that couldn't be helped. As a matter of fact I innocently overlooked just how much cleavage it did show. Actually, it was hot enough to make the tights redundant. I slipped them off and put them in my purse.

I fronted up at Mr Anders' place, all fresh and demure. He smiled when he saw me and if his eyes tended to linger a little on my cleavage I didn't notice. The kids were playing in the kitchen and I bent over to say hi. I glanced up at Mr Anders and he was looking down at the kids as well, staring rather fixedly. It would just be vanity on my part to think that he was looking down the front of my blouse.

He gave me several instruction regarding the kids and then left to get ready to go out. I've sat for the Anders before, and normally it's a case of here're the kids and they wander off to get ready. Mr Anders was very conscientious. He came back several times to check on how we were doing.

His timing was a bit odd. I happened to be bending down with my back to the door the first time, and I'm embarrassed to say my skirt probably rode up and showed off my bottom and panties. And, dare I say it, probably my pussy, because I was standing with my legs slightly apart to get a better balance while I lifted the baby.

The next time I was just standing there holding the baby and talking to the toddler. Mr Anders stared at me rather fixedly for a short while, much to my surprise. It wasn't until after he'd gone that I noticed that the baby had pulled another button loose on my blouse and that one of my breasts was actually exposed. How embarrassing.

It seemed to me that every time I bent over I'd find Mr Anders standing in a position that enable him to either see down my blouse or up my skirt. It was fortunate that I was too innocent to notice.

Eventually Mr Anders left. I suspected that he was going to be a little late getting to where-ever he was going. He seemed to be having some sort of trouble with the front of his trousers. He had to adjust them before he actually left. I settled down to play with the kids for a while before tucking them into bed.

My problem now was that with the kids in bed my excuses for bending over were greatly diminished. It wouldn't be seemly for me to just lean forward to give Mr Anders a free peek. It had to be natural and innocent so that he felt he was doing something illicit. That feeling, plus his general horniness and alcohol lowered inhibitions, was what I was counting on.

So the question was - how to show off the goodies to Mr Anders without seeming to show off the goodies. The answer was obvious. Fall asleep on the couch.

When Mr Anders arrived home he found me innocently asleep on the couch. One leg had dropped off the side of the couch, and somehow or other my skirt had ridden up, showing off my panties. Because of the angle I was on my blouse was dragged to the side. No extra buttons had come undone but one full white breast was on display, the pink nipple shocking in its contrast.

Being dead to the world, I didn't notice when Mr Anders arrived and stood at the door watching me for five minutes. Neither did I notice him carefully sit on the couch next to me.

If I'd been awake I'd have known straight away when a finger gently rubbed my nipple, teasing it into life. I would have felt gentle hands stroking my breasts, making them feel full and heavy.

I would certainly have protested when a hand started gently squeezing my pussy, rubbing it through my panties, slowly stirring it up. As it was I just dreamed, and strange dreams they were. I muttered and turned over onto my back, inadvertently giving Mr Anders greater access to my more private parts and he, unprincipled brute that he was, took advantage of that fact.

I hadn't known it was possible for ladies panties to be taken down so carefully. Mr Anders had slipped them right off without disturbing me too much, but I was a little more restless now. When a finger slipped between my lips and probed inside me it was too much. I snapped awake.

I was confused, of course. Innocent little me had no idea of the depravity to which men would sink. Mr Anders had noticed that I was awake but did this make any difference to what he was doing? Well, yes, actually. He smiled and a hand that I hadn't even realised was on my breast tightened and squeezed me.

"Mr Anders," I squealed indignantly, "what do you think you're doing?"

"It's nothing, Cheryl, really," he assured me. "I'm just learning a little about you."

A little? His fingers were very busy inside me, stroking and teasing me. I'd already been hot and a little wet before he woke me, but I was so wet now you'd think it would quench the fire. Not so. It seemed to fuel it.

I was squirming around under his touch, feebly trying to protest.

"Really, Mr Anders, you have to stop this. You know you shouldn't be touching me like that. What do you think my father would say?"

"Mmm, let's not tell him. This'll be out little secret. Do you like this?"

"No," I said, lying my head off. It was bloody marvellous. "It feels wrong. Please stop."

"No, I don't think so. Don't worry about it. You'll see, it'll all feel good soon enough. This is something that happens to every woman sooner or later. I just think you're old enough now to appreciate it."

That wicked degenerate just kept on, teasing my breasts and pussy, stoking the fires that burned within me. Any protests I made were ignored, as were my claims not to like it.

"Little liar," he told me quite cheerfully. "I can feel your body moving with me. Whether you're willing to admit it or not, you're loving this."

He had that right. I was almost jumping out of my skin. I felt like telling him to stop playing around and get the main show on the road. Fortunately, at that stage he stood up and dropped his trousers. I could now see what had been bothering him when he left earlier. It was a wonder that he'd been able to keep it caged.

I gave a shocked scream. How dare he expose himself like that? Had he no decency? Then to my horror, I realised that he was going to put his cock in me.

I'm an eighteen year old virgin and a babysitter and I was going to be raped. What do you do in a situation like this?

You protest of course, and you struggle, but in an innocently genteel manner.

"Mr Anders, this will be rape. You mustn't do it. How could I face my friends if they find out? How could I look your wife in the eye if she knew that you'd ravished me?"

"Don't worry about it," he told me. "I have no intention of telling anyone. You'll just have to suffer in silence. It will be our little secret."

"But it's rape," I wailed, and then I shrieked in earnest.

Mr Anders had parted my lips and driven in, popping my cherry with a loud bang. It felt like a loud bang to me, anyway. That bloody hurt. All those banked fires died right down real fast.

"Damn you, that hurt," I wailed, justifiably upset. Why the hell couldn't he have been gentler?

"Sorry," he said, but he sure didn't sound it. He sounded triumphant.

"Don't worry. You'll find it starts to feel good again very quickly."

He was right about that. The friction from that initial drive into me was rekindling the fire and by the time his groin bumped against mine I was aroused and burning. So I wailed in protest.

"Oh my god, you're doing it. You're really doing it. This is rape," I wailed.

"Oh, hush up and relax, damn it. I told you it'll feel better shortly. Just move with me."

"I don't know what you mean," I wailed, while I humped my hips to meet his second drive. "I'm a virgin. I don't know what to do."

"Oh god! Just do what you're doing now. You're doing fine."

He sounded almost desperate as he tried to soothe my fears, but his cock was doing just fine. It was banging in and out while I was busy pushing up against it, trying to keep up with Mr Ashers' energy which seemed to be growing with every thrust he gave me.

The whole thing was fantastic. I couldn't stand it. The strangest sensations were exploding up out of my pussy, sending me berserk. I was bucking fiercely under him, tossing my head from side to side, making these funny little, "uh, uh," sounds. The whole thing was way out of my control and I was loving it.

The best part was that it just kept going and going, and I was feeling better and better the longer he went on ravishing me.

At the end of it I could hear myself screaming, "Please, oh please," over and over, wanting it to finish because I just knew that the end of it would be the best part.

Mr Ashers suddenly gave this loud groan, and his cock started banging against me as if there was no tomorrow and he had to do everything right then and there. I could feel when he ejaculated inside me. There was this hot splash deep inside me, and I just lost it. I could feel myself tightening my passage, clamping down on his cock as it shuddered and throbbed inside me, but then I was screaming and shaking and dying and I honestly think I did die for a while.

When I finally revived and took an intelligent interest in the world around me Mr Anders was standing nearby, looking real worried. He very gently eased me into the bathroom, telling me I might like to clean up a little.

Damn right I would. I had three different liquids oozing down my legs. My own fluid from where I'd been so wet, a bit of red which I assumed was blood from my destroyed cherry, and white slime which was bound to be Mr Anders sperm.

I had a shower and tidied myself up. I had my purse with me so I put on my tights, as well as buttoning my blouse all the way to the top. When I left the bathroom I was looking innocent and respectable. Mr Anders was still looking worried and guilty.

"Look, Cheryl, I'd had a bit too much to drink and I got a little carried away. I think it would be best if neither of us mentioned this to anyone."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to go around talking about it. I assume that you will have the decency not to tell anyone what you did."

He went slight red. Redder, I should say. He was already embarrassed.

"No, no. I won't say a word, I swear. Ah, as a bit of an apology I've added a little something to your wages."

He indicated an envelope on the coffee table. I just picked it up and stuffed it in my purse without looking inside, obviously uninterested in any bribes.

"If you'll excuse me," I said, "I'll be on my way."

I stalked out of the house and headed home. As soon as I was out of sight of his house I was fishing for the envelope. A hundred bucks bonus. Nice. That must have hurt him. Well, he shouldn't go attacking innocent young ladies.

I wondered what other husbands might try to get me alone. There were a couple I could think of. This could prove interesting.