WARNING:
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further!
This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.
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A Harvey Marcus Retrospective: Who Loves Ya', Baby(sitter)
In a sudden delusion caused by two simultaneous synapses crossing each other, I thought, "Gee, wouldn't it be keen to tell the early stories of how I, Harvey Marcus, started screwing around with younger women?" Younger but legal.
This is my second Official Retrospective. Having broken through the moral boundary, succumbing to a seduction by Annie's sitter Daphne [Ditz], I was vulnerable to additional opportunities. An unexpected upchuck and an assertive mother led me to my second indiscretion. All her daughter wanted to know was that she was desirable. With her mother's coaching, she got more than she expected.
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Babysitter Redux
Ditz's (really Daphne's) resignation phone call shocked Harriett, but I was expecting it. Smith and Jones, my two bowling (and now balling) buddies both said that they lost Ditz as a sitter for their kids immediately after they'd had sex with her. Too bad, really, because it was the only real sex I'd had with a living, breathing woman in a long time. And finding a competent babysitter would be tough, too.
I left the selection of a replacement to Harriett. I was afraid I'd be swayed by the candidates' demeanor, especially her sensuality. After succumbing to Ditz's seduction, I had little grip on what my limitations were. If presented with another opportunity to fuck Annie's babysitter, would I? Was the barrier completely down? And what was with Ditz's parents, anyway, condoning their daughter's sexual activity, and endorsing our sexual liaison? Was that the standard for parents? For Annie's sake, I hoped not.
Leave it to Harriett, the news sitter named Alyssa Bollard was bookish in looks, lifeless shoulder-length brown hair, dark rimmed circular plastic eyeglass frames that always seemed to be sliding down her nose, and not much in the way of hips or ass. However, beneath her loose-fitting blouses and sweaters lived a pair of bounteous breasts. Oh, she kept them well hidden. Bound to her torso, perhaps, with no sway to them at all. But they were unmistakable in profile.
Harriett introduced us, as if we'd never met. Perhaps Harriett's memory wasn't bulletproof after all. She seemed to be unaware that we'd met Alyssa before, or that Alyssa and I had a previous encounter. The last New Year's Eve, we attended a party. Alyssa and her parents attended as well. If I'm not mistaken, that's how Harriett got Alyssa's name as a possible sitter. Anyway, it was a minute before midnight, and Harriett excused herself to the washroom. I expected it was because she wanted to avoid a scene, me asking for the traditional midnight kiss, and Harriett's aversion to public displays of affection. Private ones too, to be honest. So there I was, standing alone. I noticed Alyssa, holding her drink, also alone. We shared smiles. Somehow, accidental choreography put us side by side as the host counted down from ten. At "Zero. Happy New Year" we faced each other. It seemed the correct thing to do, but we were both awkward in our head movements. Our faces bobbed and weaved. I was trying to kiss her cheek. With her head turned, I puckered and moved forward. Her head turned, and my lips brushed against hers. No harm, no foul. Except Alyssa put her hand on my shoulder. It was wrong, but my lips returned to hers. The second kiss was a real one, needy, demanding, succulent. We backed away after what seemed to be minutes but had probably been mere seconds. Her face was flushed, and I was hardening in my slacks, which were somewhat baggy from unintentional weight loss. She danced away, and that was the last time I'd seen her, until she showed up at our front door for babysitting duties.
I did my best to maintain a safe distance. Brief comments in passing. "Hello." "How are you today?" No accidental sightings in underwear, hers or mine. No sitting on laps or touching. A strict distance made for a good relationship. And, no mention of our New Years Eve kissing.
Then one fateful incident. Harriett and I were scheduled to attend a fancy dinner dance. Due to the late hour of our return, Alyssa was going to stay overnight. I was on my best behavior, locking the bedroom door when I changed into my suit, and giving Alyssa complete privacy. After dinner, Harriett refused to dance with me. Perhaps she thought that me holding her was too intimate an act. So we left earlier than expected. There was laughing and splashing upstairs when we got home. I went up to check on the hubbub. Alyssa was on her knees next to the tub bathing Annie. Annie was splashing up a storm, soaking everything in sight. Alyssa's print cotton nightgown was soaked, clinging to her breasts. There was no way to avoid seeing the gentle contour and size of her tits. She looked at me, then down at her chest. Her face got red as she pulled the material away from her body. No use. The nightgown slapped back as soon as she let go, revealing everything. They were hangers, with a steep slope. I swiveled and exited the room, trying to drive the image from my mind. They were just breasts, I told myself, and I had no rights. Not to touch or caress or nibble or -. Shit. The profile of her chest was burned into my brain.
By staying away and virtually locking myself in one room or another when Alyssa was over, I avoided any possible incidents. My sudden departures from a room she'd entered often left Alyssa standing there, mouth open, attempting to engage me in conversation. What did we have to talk about, anyway? Time alone with this young woman would have been just the kind of slippery slope that led me to sex with Ditz, a situation I was desperate to avoid. On some occasions, Harriett had me pay Alyssa and let her out. During those brief encounters, Alyssa would blur out questions, principally about boys and dating. "When you were dating-", "A boy asked me out and-" I feigned ignorance, mumbling something about how times had changed since I dated. Given Ditz's parents' enthusiastic support of me fucking their daughter, they sure had! Dating as a movie and a soda seemed like a century ago.
Everything went well until one evening, when I walked around the garage to the back door instead of coming straight into the house. As I walked past the kitchen window, I saw Alyssa washing something in the sink wearing only her bra. Deep cleavage between huge breasts, at least for a teen. I couldn't help getting stiff. After all, Ditz had been my last sex, over a month ago.
I intentionally fumbled with the lock, to give Alyssa time to cover up. When I entered, she'd draped a dishrag over her chest, not nearly big enough to cover. "You startled me."
"Where's Annie?"
"Annie threw up a couple of times, so Mrs. Marcus called the doctor. They went to hospital."
"I'm going to call and check in. Are you okay?"
"Just vomit on my blouse. No biggie."
She was wrong. She had two biggies, and I had a biggie growing in my pants. "There's some on your skirt." I pointed to a splatter near the hemline.
Alyssa bent and lifted the skirt to get a better look. The washrag slid down, exposing cleavage. She threw a hand to stop it from falling off. By lifting the hem to examine the other stain, she exposed more of her legs. Shit, exactly the kind of thing I had been trying to avoid. "Maybe I should wash this out, too?"
That meant taking off her skirt. I couldn't tolerate seeing her in bra and panties, in my kitchen or any other room. "Why don't you go upstairs and get out of those things? You can use one of our bathrobes."
Alyssa nodded. "I know where."
Had she been sneaking around our closets? I hoped she hadn't found my stash of porn. Maybe I need to find a better place than a box at the back of my closet.
Alyssa came downstairs a few minutes later in my white bathrobe, tied tightly around her waist. Thank God she was covered up. I stood to exit the kitchen, but she put her hand on my arm. "Don't go. I have something to ask you. Something serious."
"Not boys or dating again. I already told you-"
"It's not about dating. Well, not directly." She took a deep breath and exhaled.
The lapels separated a fraction of an inch. Knowing her full figure was within reach increased my blood pressure. "Okay. What's up?" Besides my dick?
"Mom said I should talk to you, but you keep avoiding me. Is there something wrong with me?"
"No, not at all." Not a good time to tell her how sexy I thought she was. There would never be a good time to share that.
"See, Mom says you'll have a male perspective. She trusts you. And you won't lie, right?"
"Un huh." Why would I, except about wanting to see her naked?
She hugged the robe to her chest, pressing her legs together. "You know my dad is gone?"
