I started having a fetish for the baby-sitter when she was young, much younger than her current age of twenty-three years. She has been the only baby-sitter of my three boys for the last eight years. Her mother is a colleague and her father is my best friend. She currently attends the college where I have taught for the last twenty two years, and I have literally known her her entire life. I watched her grow from infant to toddler to child to girl to young woman to mature young lady.
Her name is Rebecca.
When I first moved to this small west coast community, my wife and I were newly married and had just begun thinking about starting our own family. I began to play golf as an activity to replace the football I played in college and was truly a novice. Though I was big and strong and could hit the ball a long way, I was never quite sure where it was headed. I met Rebecca's father on the first tee one afternoon, and he could sense my newness to the game. Within a few minutes he was giving me helpful hints and we became fast friends. Even though he was a decade older than me, we hit it off pretty well. We shared a mutual interest in fine cigars, fine single malt scotch, and fine women. I found out quickly that his wife was an associate professor in my own department at the small university in town. She was quite a looker, even though she had two small children. Her hair was long and brown, straight and fine. She had magnificent carriage, erect and proper, which caused her smallish breasts to jut enticingly. She was quick to smile and after just half of a glass of wine, she would reveal her bawdy sense of humor. She and my own wife, who could have been her sister in looks and temperament, became fast friends and fellow shopaholics. We were the first baby-sitters for their two small kids. We would even take Justin and Rebecca home with us for the weekend, just to give our friends a reprieve and allow us to practice parenting. We became almost like family, brother and sister to Tom and Janet, aunt and uncle to Justin and Rebecca.
When our own boys started to arrive, half a decade later, Rebecca was six years old. By the time she was old enough to baby-sit, there were three boys, ages nine, seven and two. It was understood that Rebecca would baby-sit, it was as natural as rainwater.
The very first time Rebecca baby-sat, it was up to me to take her home. My wife and I had driven into the next town for dinner and a movie. The red wine in combination with the flickering screen had given her a headache, spoiling my amorous plans for the evening. I waited in the driveway for Rebecca to come out of our house for the ride home. I was shocked when I saw her silhouette in the headlights. She had blossomed.
We rode to her house in silence, though I did notice that she kept her hands on her thighs, fingers pointed inward, thumbs bent backward, somewhat awkwardly. I didn't have a lustful thought about her, just a wistful thought about how young and beautiful she was becoming. Wondering and jealous, knowing that her next five or so years would be filled with discovery, joy, heartbreak, and if she was lucky, love and passion.
From that night on, Rebecca was our regular baby-sitter. The routine seldom varied, unless for some reason I needed to stay in and my wife taxied her home. Any knowledge of Rebecca's budding romantic life came to us through her parents. We found out about her boyfriends through them. We found out when they became ex-boyfriends too. We still did a great many things together as an extended family. Rebecca was an avid golfer, much like her father. She even played in a few club tournaments with me when her father was unavailable. We spent a great deal of time in the same cart together. As many of her generation does, she wears clothing that mimics the pop stars attire. She can be athletic and sexy at the same time. Even in golf shorts and polo shirt, it's hard not to notice her long, tan, athletic legs and her small yet well shaped breasts. She has her mother's long hair and regal bearing. It was on the golf course, when Rebecca was eighteen that I first caught a glimpse of something I look back and realize changed the course of our relationship forever.
She was squatting down, trying to read a putt, her concentration was on the line it would take and I was standing behind her.
"I think it's going to break a cup to the left," she stated. I disagreed.
"It's either dead on or half a cup to the right. This green runs that way." I pointed down to the water on the right side of the green. To double check my read of the green, I walked around the cup to look at her putt from the other side. My eyes traveled from the cup to her ball and I noticed, for the first time, that Rebecca wasn't wearing shorts that day. Instead she was wearing an athletic skirt. As she squatted down to read her putt, she was revealing to all that she was wearing purple panties too. Not only that, she was demonstrating that she had not yet learned about the wonders of tending the garden that grew between her legs or the miracle of the bikini wax. At that moment, I was smitten with lust.
Smitten my ass, I wanted to fuck her brains out. She was my best friends daughter, a girl I knew all her life, and I was looking at her like a hungry man looks at a well cooked steak. She looked so tender, so juicy, so damned edible, I was losing concentration. My cock stirred in my own shorts and I realized that I was beginning to stare. So did Rebecca. She just smiled and stood up slowly.
"I think your are right, David. It does break to the right." She lined up her putt and stroked it smoothly to the back of the hole. When she bent down to pick it up out of the cup, I stood up quickly and adjusted my hard on so that it would lay to one side. I tried to keep my back to her until I could be sure it was waning. And I thought I had gotten away with it. For the rest of the day, the routine was the same. First I would look over her shoulder to read the putt, then I would hurry around to the other side of the hole and get a good eyeful over her purple covered snatch and watch her make putt after putt. My own game suffered, I shot eight over my handicap. Rebecca shot six under hers and as a team that was good enough for first place in our flight. We won over thirty-three hundred dollars and as was customary, we bought the drinks at the 19th Hole. Rebecca was too young to drink, but that didn't stop her. I realized quickly that she was like a lot of her peers, used to drinking beer. We sat in the golf cart, under the shade tree, accepting congratulations from the other golfers and the ribbing I deserved for letting a high school senior GIRL carry me to a victory during the day. At some point during the partying, Rebecca decided that it would be appropriate of her to sit across the front of my golf cart. She placed a couple towels on the bar frame and sat there, legs together straight across the dashboard of the cart. Once, reaching for her beer from the cup holder, her left knee flexed upward and when she regained her balance, she kept it there. That sweet, tender, purple covered pussy was now only a few feet from my face and in perfect view. She put her legs together whenever someone walked around the cart on the driver's side, but she kept her knee up when only I could see what she was doing.
"Save my seat," she commanded. "I have to go to the bathroom." She hopped off of her perch and disappeared into the clubhouse. The passenger seat was taken by her father, who had just arrived.
"I see you two did well," he said proudly, examining the scoreboards on the side of the outdoor patio behind the course's club house.
"Yes, YOUR DAUGHTER did play well. I wasn't much help." I reached into my pocket and pulled out sixteen one hundred dollar bills. "This is her half of the prize money." We both knew that if Rebecca accepted money from the tournament, it would jeopardize her amateur status. We also both knew how expensive it was to keep a tournament player in the proper equipment. Tom didn't argue, he just accepted the money and slipped it into his pocket.
"DADDY!" Rebecca grabbed her father around the neck. "You should have been there. David would read the putts and I would knock them in. It was great. I was on fire!" Tom smiled broadly at his only daughter's success. It made him proud. "I think he would make an excellent caddie!" Even I laughed at that joke at my expense. I really hadn't been much more than a caddie that day anyway.
"Have you been drinking Rebecca?" Tom asked his daughter.
"Yes daddy. It's a victory party."
"You be careful."
"I will, David won't let me drink too much and get wild. Will you David?"
Get wild, I thought. Hell YES I would! "No, I wouldn't think of it. In fact, it's probably time you switched to water or iced tea anyway." Rebecca pretended to pout, but she nodded. And then I saw a wink.
Tom stood up. "Don't be too late celebrating. You have to mow the lawn tomorrow."
