Teaching the Babysitter
By Wynne Burroughs
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Wynne Burroughs
Cover Photo © Can Stock Photo Inc. / dolgachov
Contents
Teaching the Babysitter
I didn't have anything to do that day,so I left for the Harrison's house a half hour early.
They needed a couple nights a week away from the baby. Having spent most of my teenage years babysitting I understood that emphatically. The thing I blundered into? That was new, though.
Their front door was unlocked. That was hardly unusual. Our neighborhood's pretty safe and they knew I'd be there soon.
The first thing I did was check the baby's bedroom. I found Ethan snoozing like a rock.
Somehow I hadn't encountered anybody else yet. Samantha must not have gotten home yet. But there was a light on in their bedroom. It was halfway open so I didn't think much about approaching.
I stepped up to the door and peered inside.
The father, Jim, laid on the bed, fully reclined. His cock stood free from his shorts with his left hand wrapped tightly around it. Up and down his hand went, with a twist of the wrist at the top of his stroke. Up and down. It was mesmerizing.
I shouldn't be watching this, I thought. I knew I should turn around and run out the front door. Come back when I was supposed to. But... it was hot.
But what if he caught me?
Jim pumped his hips. He fucked his hand. His thumb sprouted a mind of it's own and rubbed the bottom of his dick head. He groaned.
His... cock... spasmed. A few fine droplets of silver sperm spat forth from him, landing somewhere on his stomach.
Jim sighed heavily. I stared blankly.
Finally, after a long moment he sat up. It took a moment for his eyes to identify me. His face exploded in embarrassment. He quickly pulled his underpants up, rolled off the bed, and faced himself away from me.
He said, “Oh Jesus, Elly. I'm sorry. I should have locked the door.”
I wanted to apologize for my voyeurism, but the words wouldn't form in my throat. Fear shot through my spine, quickly reaching every muscle. I froze up and it got me thinking.
I was always a late bloomer.
My friends starting dating around when we reached high school. At that age boys were intimidating. I felt I'd be safer face deep in a book. Judging by my friends that turned out to be true, but maybe sometimes risk is worth it.
It was a feedback loop. Freshman year passed then sophomore. Before I knew it I was halfway through senior year and never so much as kissed a boy.
A couple guys came onto me but my anxiety had grown to epic levels. The Prom came. I arranged a date with one of my gay friends so that I could be there but not threatened by the boys. He didn't accompany me to the school sanctioned after party—he wanted to go get drunk. Around two AM one of the boys from my class dedicated a karaoke of “Baby Got Back”, which was puzzling because I've never had much in the way of hips or ass. A little after that he backed me into a corner and kissed me. It was nice, sweet, and something I desperately wanted, but I still froze up.
To this day he thinks he horrified me. I've always wanted to tell him no, but the anxiety...
More years passed. Another freshman and sophomore year flew by. The boys at college seemed stupider, if that was possible. Last spring this really sweet boy asked me out, Jeremy, but my mind seized up once again. I promised myself I'd Facebook him once I get back to school.
But that brings me to summer break.