Babysitters Teacher

I had an unexpected sitting job on Friday night. Mrs McGonicle had rung in a bit of a panic. Her husband had been in an accident and she had to go and see him. Her brother would drive her to the hospital and stay while they operated, but come home and finish looking after the kids for the night while she stayed at the hospital. Could I please come and sit until Neil returned from the hospital?

What could I say but yes? It wasn't as though I had anything special on. I agreed and told her I'd be right over.

I drove around to the McGonicle's place and wandered up to the door and rang the bell. I heard Mrs McGonicle yell that it would be the sitter and for someone to let me in. Heavy footsteps approached the door and it swung open.

"Ivy?" said Mr Beachon. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Evening, Mr Beachon," I said, smiling gamely. "I'm here to babysit."

"Geez, it's official," he grumbled. "My sister has lost her ever-loving mind."

"Nice to see you, too. Now are you moving out of the way or do I turn around and go home?"

Mr Beachon, Neil, I suppose, moved to one side and let me in.

As you may have gathered from the greeting I already knew Mr Beachon. He was my maths teacher and I was not his favourite student. I suspected that if he listed his students from best to worst he would find a way to leave me right off the list.

It wasn't that I was such a dreadful student. It was more a difference in philosophy. He thought mathematics was the bee's knees and everyone should love it. I was of the opinion that communication was the best thing. I absolutely excelled in English and Literature classes. I've even had a couple of small articles published. Maths I can take or leave. If I take it, it's just so I can take it somewhere private and leave it there.

If that was the only difficulty we had I suppose we would have managed but maths bores me and when I get bored I get mischievous. Silly, according to Mr Beachon. This mischievousness had resulted in extra homework and a number of detentions. My own fault, I'll admit, but he made such an easy target at times.

If it hadn't been for him being my maths teacher I'd probably have really liked Mr Beachon. He was a big man, very solid, and not unhandsome. Dark hair and blue eyes and a very determined chin. Most definitely not nerd material. He also acted as assistant coach at times and was very fit.

Mrs McGonicle came out of wherever she'd been, looking all flustered. I calmed her down, took control of the kids and chased her out, probably irritating the hell out of Mr Beachon with my air of calm efficiency. He gave me a couple of looks as they left, just itching to warn me to behave myself, but unable to say anything in case it upset his sister. I smiled and waved and went chasing the children.

Everything went smoothly. The kids knew me and knew how far they could push me and we got along just fine. They didn't know that their father was in hospital and I didn't tell them. I'm sure their mother or uncle would enlighten them once they knew how bad things were.

Accordingly I played with the kids, fed them, made sure they bathed, put them to bed, yelled at them, put them to bed again with militant threats, kissed them goodnight, and watched them drift off to sleep.

After that it was TV and Facebook and text messages flying back and forth until Mr Beachon finally returned.

He came in, looking around suspiciously, probably wondering what I'd got up to while he was gone. I politely asked about Mr McGonicle and was informed that he had a badly broken leg and they had put pins in it. He'd be fine and the doctors said he wouldn't even limp when it was healed.

Seeing that Mr Beachon was still looking around for signs of damage I decided I'd better reassure him.

"The kids are in bed asleep," I told him. "I didn't say anything about their father's accident. I assumed that you or your sister would fill them in tomorrow. The kids behaved themselves admirably."

"I assumed that they would," he told me. "I was more worried about you behaving."

"Really," I snapped, irritated. "I was in a position of responsibility and I take my responsibilities seriously. There were no problems from the kids or me. No reasons to assign a detention."

Possibly that last comment was being a little snide, but I knew he'd bite on it.

"We're not at school," he pointed out. "No detentions. I would have just had you bend over that chair," indicating a big fat armchair, "and given you what for."

"Well, really," I said, feeling insulted now. "Don't you think I'm a little old to get a spanking?"

"Who said anything about a spanking?" he asked, and his voice was silky smooth, sending little tremors down my back.

"You did," I pointed out. "You said you'd bend me over that chair and oh!"

Belatedly it occurred to me that it wasn't just a spanking a young lady could receive from an irate male when bent over a chair, bottom up.

"You wouldn't dare," I told him, biting off each word with precision.

He laughed at me, the swine.

"Of course I'd dare, Ivy. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror? You're a walking, talking, temptation. I assure you, I would have found it a most interesting experience. I might even have been able to teach you something."

He'd have been teaching me a whole lot. I might have been of age but I was still a virgin. I just have him a cold look, but I had another nervous little shiver run down my back. There was an interesting question. Why did a couple of chilly little shivers running down my back end up in a little pool of heat in my groin? I found I was wondering what the lesson would have been like.

"It occurs to me," he said, speaking softly, "why should you forego the lesson just because of good behaviour. A good teacher should always be willing to go that extra step when educating young minds. Why don't you bend over that nice fat arm on the chair and I'll start your education."

I found myself looking at the chair. It was well stuffed and the arms looked fat and comfortable. If I did bend over would he pull down my panties? Ah, well yes, you idiot, I told myself. And he'd do a lot more besides that.

I was looking between Mr Beachon and the chair while my mind raced. What if I did bend over? I could always call a halt before things went too far, couldn't I? Um, maybe not, but do I care? I had to learn sometime and I really did quite like Mr Beachon. Also, he wouldn't haunt me for ages afterwards wanting more and he wouldn't tell anyone. He was still officially my teacher and if he talked about it he could get into trouble from the school.

"You might as well call me Neil," he said.

I looked at him blankly.

"It just doesn't seem right for you to call me Mr Beachon when I have my hands inside your panties," he said.

I gave him a shocked look. A bit presumptive, wasn't he?

"If you were going to say no you'd have said it straight away," he explained. "Right now you want to and are trying to find reasons why you should. The fact that you want to is reason enough."

With that comment he was guiding me over to the chair and gently pushing on my back, easing me over it. I could scarcely credit the fact that I was bent over waiting for Mr Beachon, ah, Neil, to start touching me.

I was a quivering wreck before he even touched me. He lifted the hem of my skirt and tucked it into the waistband and then his hand drifted down across my bottom. I was expecting him to pull down my panties but he didn't bother. He just ran his hands all over my bottom. I could feel him through the flimsy lace of my panties and it felt strange. One hand was going around in little circles, each circle going lower than the previous one, and that little pool of heat inside me was starting to warm up some more.

I almost screamed when his hand went between my legs and closed over my mound. Fortunately I was able to strangle the scream at birth. I was starting to feel most peculiar. I had had a few slap and tickle sessions with various boyfriends but they'd been more slap than tickle. Never in my life had I permitted such a deliberate touching of my body.

He very thoroughly massaged me. It was all well and good and exciting until his hand dipped under my panties and he was rubbing my naked flesh. That was starting to make it all too real, especially as his fingers were starting to encroach between my lips. I was getting all hot and bothered and starting to have second thoughts. Who was I kidding? I was having second thoughts before he even touched me. Now I was having third, fourth, and fifth, thoughts, and none of them were agreeing with each other.

Enough, I decided. When he went to pull my panties down I'd call it off. It's not as though he'd force me. I was fairly sure of that. I mean, he wouldn't.

He suddenly withdrew his hand and told me to stand up. I was both furious and indignant. He couldn't call a halt just like that. Surely that was my prerogative? I stood up and turned to face him but he stopped me.

"No," he tells me. "I just want you to stand so that you can take your panties off."

Me take them off? That was his job, wasn't it? That was going to be my signal to say enough. If I took them off it was as good as saying carry on. For a little while, anyway. If I didn't take them off how would I look? A tease or a coward? I wouldn't want him to think that. Maybe if I slipped them down and let him touch me for a bit longer and then call it off? I was talking myself into it, wasn't I?

I slowly slipped my panties down, daintily stepping out of them. I expected him to then encourage me to bend back over but I got blind-sided, again. His hand was at my waist and the next thing I know he gave my skirt a twitch and it slid right off, pooling around my ankles. What could I do but step out of it, feeling shocked. I was naked from the waist down. Well, really, I had known he could see me with my skirt lifted, sort of, and he had been touching me, had he ever, but I hadn't been naked. Everything seemed different now.

Now he encouraged me to bend back over and his hand was on my mound instantly. He was rubbing more energetically now, and I could feel the difference. I was also reacting more energetically, shall we say, and I was certainly feeling all hot and bothered. His free hand ran up under my top and he unclipped my bra. As you can guess, one micro-second later his hand was in front of me, rubbing against my breasts, and that made me even hotter and more bothered.

His fingers were now really intruding inside me, teasing me, trying to drive me wild. I nearly screamed when his groping touch brushed too close to what I assumed was my clitoris, because the feeling was something wild.

I was back to debating with myself, when I had enough sense to actually think, as to whether to call a halt or not, when I felt him stretching my lips apart. I knew instinctively what that meant and I was not surprised to find something large pressing against me at that point. No, not pressing against me but into me. This was it.

His cock was already pressing against my hymen. What did I do? Well, what I actually did was give a startled scream. Even while he was pressing into me his fingers had gone back to work. He touched me lightly around the clitoris again, bringing that wild feeling while at the same time pressing harder with his cock and popping my cherry. I have no idea if I screamed for my lost virginity, for the pain, or for that wild touch against my clitoris. What I did know was that I could kiss off any idea of saying no.

OK. From that point on things got really exciting. I hadn't realised how much all those exciting little touches were just the prelude to the main event. Now his cock was driving forcefully into me, filling me, stretching me and making me take him, even when I thought there was no more room for him. I'm quite sure my eyes were popping from the shock of it.

With his cock fully in me my breasts fell captive to both his hands, him holding them and rubbing them and teasing my nipples while his cock got down to some serious work.

OK, I was a little slow to start moving with him but that's the advantage of having a teacher fuck you. Mr Beachon, no, make that Neil. Mr Beachon was for school. Neil was for when he was fucking me. As I was saying, Neil promptly corrected me, encouraging me in the right way to do things. He should be so helpful during maths class. Oh, dear. A thought of him instructing me in maths while doing this in the classroom just struck me. There'd be a riot. I'd have laughed, but it's hard to laugh when you're gasping for breath while you're having your ass screwed off.

Oh my god, but it was wonderful. Each stroke seemed to be harder than the one before and each stroke was definitely more exciting than the previous one. He seemed to be going faster and faster while my bottom was bouncing up and down as I tried to keep up with him.

Looking back at what happened I will concede that he wasn't really going faster with each stroke. That perception was just a side effect of my excitement and desire for that next thrust. He was actually going at a pretty standard pace, assuming that there is such a thing as a standard pace for screwing.

Whatever pace he was going on he seemed to be able to do it for quite a long time. Was I objecting? Not that anyone would notice. He thrust and I bounced, pushing to meet him, quite ready to keep this up all night long. Assuming I lived that long. I was already excited all to hell and burning hot. I assumed spontaneous combustion wasn't that far off but I didn't care, just as long as Neil didn't stop.

It turned out it wasn't spontaneous combustion that wasn't far off but a climax. Hey, I was new to this. How would I know? All I really knew was that I seemed to be short of breath and then all hell broke loose inside me as my climax rolled through me, reducing me to a quivering lump.

I slowly gathered my thoughts. Neil was still firmly pressed inside me, even if he wasn't moving. Then he leaned against me and whispered in my ear.

"Having fun yet?" he asked.

Then he pulled out and pulled me to my feet and turned me around to face him. I was just looking at him, not knowing what I was supposed to do now. He took hold of my top and lifted it up and off, taking my bra with it, leaving me standing there naked in front of him.

"Time for round two," he told me. "Don't worry. This won't last as long."

Round two? What was he on about? Worry about what?

Worry about being pressed until I was leaning back against that big fat chair, my arms going behind me to support myself. Looking down at myself I could see everything, and I knew damn well he could, too, and that he was looking. Looking down I could also see his erection, hovering just near my pussy. It was a case of what the hell? He can't, can he? Not if he just did it.

I guess maybe he didn't quite do it because that cock was certainly moving towards me in an aggressive manner. He just lined me up and then I could see it pushing into me. Feeling it pushing into me from behind was one thing. Staring down and watching this great big cock entering me was nerve wracking. If he'd tried it like this right from the start I'd probably have panicked and run away. Now all I could do was stand there and watch it sink into me, muttering things like, "You can't," and "Oh my god."

He most definitely could. He slid smoothly into me until his groin was firmly pressed against mine and I could feel him all the way up to the bottom of my throat. At least, I assume that's what was causing the choking feeling. Without moving his cock he bent his head and was chewing on my breasts. That's what it felt like, anyway. I could feel his hot breath, cooling me off when it blew across the moisture left by his tongue, and I could feel his teeth rasping against my nipples.

He finally lifted his head, winked at me, and said, "Watch."

Next thing I know I'm watching his cock pull slowly out of me, pause and drive back in, moving hard and fast. Then he was doing it again. I don't know why but watching him fuck me seemed to be adding to the excitement. Is that why people like mirrors with sex? I've always wondered.

This time he was moving a lot faster than earlier, I was certain. He was pulling back and driving in and I barely had time to keep up with him. I'd wondered what he'd meant by not lasting as long but I was very quickly finding out.

Earlier I'd started from nothing and he'd built things up to my climax. Now I was already all excited and aroused. I'd come down a little from the high of my climax, but only a little. He made short work of that, building me up until I was nearly climaxing again. Then he held me at that spot. At some stage my legs had come up and wrapped around him and my hands were clutching his shoulders as tightly as I could. I was making frantic little sounds, this time knowing what was coming and not wanting to wait for it.

From somewhere he seemed to get some reserves of energy and really started ploughing into me. Not that that lasted long. Just a few of those frenetic strokes were enough to push me over the edge and I climaxed dramatically. There was a difference this time. Among other things I could tell he was also climaxing. That explained how he could do it a second time. He hadn't climaxed the first time, just tortured me into it.

Then we were separated, me leaning heavily against the chair and him standing there, smiling. He suddenly started laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked, feeling insulted.

"Not you, I assure you," he said. "You were wonderful. No, I just had an idle thought that maybe I should use this sort of incentive to teach you maths."

Well, what could I do but giggle. I mean, I had had exactly the same thought earlier.

Still laughing he dragged me off to the bathroom and shoved me under the shower. Then he hopped in with me and carefully washed me. He did it so sweetly I couldn't object, even if all that careful sponging did leave me feeling excited again.

After that it was get dressed and I was driving home. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd have stayed the night if he asked me to. I couldn't help but wonder what Mrs McGonicle would have said if she'd come home the next morning and found us in bed. She's a notorious gossip. Still, I also just had to wonder if it would always be Mr Beachon in the future, or would Neil appear again sometime.