This is a work of fiction. The author does not condone any sexual activity among persons under 16 in real life.The Sweetest SitterI got out of the taxi and slammed the door. I shouldn't have taken it out on him, but I could barely hold it in. My car had broken down on the way to work. We had about eight inches of snow, I had no way of getting to my job since I didn't have $50 to spend on a cab. And then another $50 to get home! That pissed off my boss, but fuck him and his stupid telesales job that barely paid minimum wage.
I resisted the temptation to slam the front door as I walked inside and called Chloe, my babysitter, to cancel. "Sorry, hon, I have to cancel my date tonight, so I won't be needing you." I explained what had passed and the frustration was clear in my voice.
A few hours later, the doorbell rang. It was Chloe. Her dark brown eyes oozed sympathy even though she smiled. "You poor thing," she cooed as she reached out to hug me. Although only 18, Chloe was already about six inches taller than my 5'4". Her long slim arms wrapped around my shoulders, comforting me and I felt like crying.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "I can't go out tonight. I was meeting him downtown and ..."
"Your car is off the road, I know. I just thought you'd like some company till Nia gets home from day care. And who is going to pick her up? I'm not having you pay for a cab."
"Ohhhhhhhh!" Now I was crying. "You're such a sweetheart. Come in out of the cold!"
She sat on the couch and pulled a bottle of wine out of her bag. "Get a glass," she said. "You need to unwind."
It was a merlot. My favorite! I started to protest, but she stopped me.
"You don't have anything to drive. Take advantage of it!"
She was right. I could use a little unwinding. I got two glasses, but Chloe said she could only have a small amount. I filled mine nearly to the top and slumped down in my arm chair.
I talked for at least an hour about what was going on, and as I did, she brushed my shoulder-length brown hair to help me relax. Gradually, it was a mix of brush and fingers and between that and the listening, and the wine, I was in heaven. This was just what I needed.
Her graceful fingers starting brushing through my hair, stroking my neck with her long nails. They scraped along my right shoulder, but my shirt was in the way, so she gently undid a button with her left hand. I closed my eyes and remembered a girl from college whom I'd had a crush on. I'd never acted on it, but in my fantasies, I sometimes experimented.
She was scratching my back lightly now and I instinctively leaned forward a little. Her nails gently scraped up and down my back and she undid another button so she could go lower. Her nails scraped along the edges of my bra strap, so lightly I thought I might fall asleep.
"Feel good?"
"Mmmmmmmm," I said, and it sounded like a moan.
"You have such beautiful skin," she whispered as he thumb slipped under my bra strap. I was so relaxed, I didn't want to say anything, I didn't want her to stop
After a few more minutes of this exquisite treat, she asked me was I thirsty. I nodded and she told me to keep my eyes closed. I felt the wine glass at my lips and opened them to take a long sip.
She put the glass back down and wiped some wine from the corner of my lips. "It's nice to let someone take care of you for once, isn't it."
It was.
"I'll finish your back when I return."
"Where are you going?" I wasn't panicked, just curious.
"I'm going to go get myself some ice water. Why don't you take off your bra? It's getting in the way.'
I unbuttoned my shirt while she was in the kitchen, took it off, and removed my bra. The chilly air had hardened my nipples, which always made my b-cup breasts look amazing. As I put my shirt back on, I heard her re-enter the room from behind me.
"Leave it off," she said.
I froze. Her tone was firm. She was not suggesting. With my back still to her, I tossed my shirt onto the couch.
"Sit back down," she said. And I did.
She went back to scratching my back as if she were painting a picture, using a variety of swirls and strokes. Sometimes she used one hand, sometimes both. She alternated between using her nails, her fingertips, and sometimes the back of her hand -- always so very lightly that it left me wanting more. Her face was so close to mine at one point that a thought occurred to me -- she might kiss me. But she didn't. Just told me to relax and continued the light strokes on my back, my shoulders, my neck, my throat and suddenly, I could feel her breath warm on my neck.
Something snapped inside me. I whispered yessss, and she whispered, "Yes what, Kelly?"
Dammit, she knew what I wanted. I could tell by the way her lips brushed against my ears when she whispered. This started a trend of her making me be very explicit in what I wanted …and what I was!
Looking back, each admission made me more hers!
On the other hand, each admission also got her to go a little further. I loved it, but the game was making me crazy. I couldn't wait any more.
"I want you to kiss me" led to "I want you to lick me" … "I want you to bite me, suck me, eat me, fuck me..."
For what seemed like an eternity, she slid her tongue from my ear to my neck, my shoulders, the V of my chest, full slow circles around each nipple, all of it just enough to heighten my senses without satisfying any.
She whispered that she only fucked sluts and as her tongue made its way slowly to my belly button, she asked me was I a slut.
I didn't say a word.
She knelt in front of me and her hands slid from the hem of my skirt down along my right leg, scratching a trail from mid thigh to my black Italian shoe, which she slid off. "Are you, Kelly?"
I still didn't speak.
She removed my left shoe and slid her hands up my left calf, past my knee, and under the hem of my skirt till she reached the top of the black stockings. A few hours earlier, as I'd slipped them on, I'd thought my date might have his hands there at some point. But Chloe's felt even better as she alternated between slipping her fingers under them to sliding them higher up my thighs.
I don't know how long she did this, but at some point those long fingers had my skirt way higher than I knew and she was tracing the edges of my lace panties. Then I felt the warmth of her soft lips on my thighs and the occasional wetness of her tongue painting tiny circles on my inner thighs.
"Should I stop?"
(or should I go on
)