A Touching Climax

I was babysitting on a Friday night. A rotten night for an unattached eighteen year old to be sitting, but I was short of cash and probably couldn't have afforded to go to a night club anyway. Tomorrow night would be a different matter.

The Andrews were a slightly older family. Jan and Peter were both in their forties and they had a son of about twenty. He was currently away at university. There other son was eight. He's the reason they required a babysitter but, as you can guess, not much work was attached to looking after him.

As it was a Friday night Brian was allowed to stay up later and he finally went to bed at around ten o'clock. As soon as he hit the pillow he zonked, and that was it for the night. All I had to do was watch TV until one of his parents got home.

Half an hour later Phil, their older son, rolled up. Apparently he'd decided to come home for the weekend. Knowing students, I am one, after all, I'd guess he was broke and hoping to cadge some cash from his parents.

Now, theoretically, I could go home as Phil was classed as an adult. There were two problems with this. I rated the chance of collecting my pay from Phil to be zero or less. Probably less, because if I mentioned money he'd probably try to borrow some from me. The other problem, Phil was just as likely to wander out again, leaving Brian alone. So all I could really do was sit and continue watching TV.

Phil, in my humble opinion, is an arrogant little prick. He thinks he's god's gift to the world and that we should all love him as much as he loves himself. I don't think it's possible. He settled onto the couch next to me and started trying to pitch a little woo. I let it sail right on past.

He shut up after a while and watched the movie, but he was narked. Suddenly he gives this funny little snort of laughter and looks at me. I don't know what he found so funny. The movie wasn't a comedy and I hadn't said a word.

The miserable little piss-ant grabbed me. He just pulled me across his lap and held me there. I suppose you could call it the spanking position. I started squealing and struggling but the stupid ape was far too strong. He just held me there without even raising a sweat.

"Stop struggling, you idiot," he told me. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to have a bit of harmless fun."

His harmless fun started with him pulling down my tights and panties, baring my bum. Then he just rested his hand on my bottom while he explained.

"Stop squealing, damn it. I'm not going to spank you or rape you. I'm just going to pet you for a while and see how long it takes you to get an orgasm. It'll be fun."

"Fucking fun for you, maybe, but indecent assault from where I am," I told him, still wriggling around. Damned if I'd submit quietly.

"So who are you going to tell?" he asked with a laugh. "Please, sir, he touched my pussy."

The swine proceeded to start playing with my pussy. OK. He was careful, even gentle, but that's not the fucking point. He wasn't supposed to be touching me at all. He lightly massaged me. He squeezed my mound. He slipped his fingers between my lips and explored me internally. He even brushed against my clitoris and that was a piece of hell.

And he would not stop. He seemed determined to bring me to a climax. He kept going on and on, while I squealed and protested and called him rude names and threatened him with prosecution and various assorted mayhems.

What was worse was that he was actually getting to me. Against all my wishes he was getting me aroused. I would be so totally humiliated if he actually succeeded, whereas he'd just take it as proof of how great he was and would probably expect thanks.

My struggles were getting quite desperate when there was this loud slapping sound and Phil and I both tumbled off the couch. I was promptly scrabbling across the floor and away from Phil, not knowing what had happened but happy it had.

Phil had jumped to his feet with a yell. Next thing I know he's back on the floor, holding his jaw, and his father is looking down at him.

"Just what the hell do you think you were doing, you little shit?" he said quietly. "Don't bother answering. Just get out. If I ever hear of anything like this from you again your allowance will be stopped cold and you can whistle for your university fees. I don't know why you're here and I don't really care. Go back to the Uni. right now. I don't want to see you back here for at least a month."

Phil said something rude and just stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

I was still sitting in the floor, crying. Mr. Andrews crossed over to me and helped me to my feet. I must have looked as though I would fall down again because he just lifted me and carried me back to the couch. He sat in the couch, just holding me for a minute until I calmed down. Then he started talking.

"Hey, it's OK. Nothing really happened. All he did was touch you. No harm done. I'm here now and you're fine."

I was still trembling slightly, but there was comfort being held, and he had chased Phil away, after punching him on the jaw, I was pleased to see. He rubbed my back, still talking to me.

"Yeah, you're fine. The silly boy was only touching and he hasn't hurt you. Everything's the same as it was. See, you're unhurt and everything feels fine. Just forget what he was doing. Replace the feel of him touching you with something else. Just relax a little while I soothe away his touch."

I hadn't even realised that I hadn't had a chance to pull up my panties and tights, so I was a little startled when Mr. Andrews slid his hand over my mound, gently cupping it. Before I could react he was talking again.

"There, isn't that better? Let your memory of him drift away. Just feel a gentle touch rubbing lightly across your skin. That feels a lot better, doesn't it? There's no compulsion now, just a gentle rubbing to ease your upset nerves."

Despite myself, I could feel myself relaxing. Like Mr. Andrews said, there was no compulsion, just a soothing motion, wiping out the feel of Phil's hands groping me so intimately.

Mr. Andrews continued his gentle rubbing his hand sliding softly between my thighs, coaxing a gentle awareness of his touch. It felt so much better and I was relaxing into it.

"You going to be fine," came Mr. Andrews' soothing voice. "Did he try to push his fingers into you?"

I must have stiffened slightly at this question, as Mr. Andrews promptly changed what he was doing.

"What a rotten kid," he said. "That sort of thing is so unfair. Is this where he touched you?"

A finger eased gently between my lips and started rubbing me internally. I tensed slightly.

"It's OK. Just relax. No compulsion, remember. Just replacing a nasty memory with a gentler one. Everything is fine and you can stop whenever you want to."

Mr. Andrews voice was a balm on my fraught nerves, easing them and making everything feel all right. I mean, I couldn't blame him that I was starting to feel aroused again, far more so than when Phil had been mauling me. I reached down to pull his hand away. He seemed to misunderstand when I tugged at his hand.

Instead of coming away when I tugged, Mr. Andrews' fingers just seemed to slide along inside my slit, and I gave a shocked squeak when he brushed my clitoris.

"Ah, he teased you here as well did he? See, it's nothing to fear. Actually you'll find it feels quite good if gently done."

Mr. Andrews promptly demonstrated what he meant by quite good, without, quite, touching my clitoris. My arousal was growing too big, too fast, and if I wasn't careful I'd be having a climax after all.

"You need to be careful, sweetheart, you're getting over excited. Maybe we'd better calm you down a little."

That sounded fine by me and I didn't protest when he moved me around until I was sitting straddling him. His arm went around me, pulling me closer. That was a shock. I could feel what he had out of his trousers, and it was something Phil hadn't got around to producing. I could feel his hard rigidity pressing along the line of my slit.

"Don't you worry about that little thing," Mr. Andrews murmured. "That's just my way of saying that you're a lovely desirable woman. Of course, if you are over aroused it probably wouldn't hurt to feel it pressing against you. Sort of get you to realise what could happen and ease off."

What he was saying seemed logical at the time, but I was awfully aware of that hard length pressing against me. I could feel myself breathing hard and heat was spreading through me, all of it seeming to be radiating up from between my legs. I was opening my mouth to say I thought it was time I got off his lap when Mr. Andrews put his hands on my bottom and lifted slightly.

"Why don't you just feel how this drags against you," he was saying softly, and it seemed to me that there was an awful lot of it dragging its way along my slit.

When Mr. Andrews stopped lifting me I could feel his erection slipping between my thighs, and I would swear that it was pressing against me. Then I was being lowered and lowered directly onto that cock.

First it pressed against my lips, then it forced them to yield. I could feel the sudden jump as the head of his cock pushed suddenly into me, and I could feel my lips closing around it. I wanted to say stop, I don't want this, but another part of me was saying, yes, go, go, go. You can guess which part of me won.

I felt Mr. Andrews' erection sliding steadily up into me. Or maybe I should say I could feel Mr. Andrews' cock filling me as I settled firmly down upon it.

I was so aroused that I didn't slow down my descent as Mr. Andrews steadily filled me. I just let myself drop. Let, hell. I was pushing down most enthusiastically. By the time my groin was rubbing against Mr. Andrews I had cock so deep inside me I could taste it.

I stayed like that for a moment, then I looked Mr. Andrews right in the eye.

"You're a treacherous and lecherous old man. You're even worse than your son because you actually con a poor mistreated young woman into wanting you. Now I am not going to be the one doing the work. If you want to continue you're going to have to stop stuffing around and start fucking around."

The evil old bastard laughed. Would you believe it? He laughed at me. Then he stood up. Geez, I squealed at that. I wrapped my arms and legs around him while he strolled across the room, wearing me like some sort of damned coat.

He walked into another room, a bedroom. He strolled over to the bed.

"I don't know," he said with a sigh. "You try to help a young lady through a traumatic experience and what do you get? Abuse."

"Abuse?" I yelped. "You've also got your cock so far up me I'm scared to bite down in case I nip off the end of it. Now are you going to finish helping me over my trauma or are you just going to talk about it?"

For answer he fell forward into the bed. My back hit the bed and then he was crushing me to it. And his flaming cock seemed to go berserk.

He was driving in and out of me at a great rate. No gentle warm up, no time to match the tempo, he was driving in hard and fast, leaving me to struggle to catch up. All his finesse seemed to have just vanished and I was wriggling and squealing like crazy by the time I finally got the rhythm and started matching him.

That, of course, is when he slowed down, getting me to slow down with him.

"Was that exciting enough for a start up?" he asked.

I was gasping for air too hard to answer that. I was stunned at what he'd just done, although in hindsight, it had been erotic and compelling. All I could do right then was give him a weak glare which just bounced off him.

Then he settled down to really work me over. He drilled into me, swiftly building on my arousal, until I was happily sailing along towards my climax, past ready for it.

He had other ideas.

"We don't want you coming too soon, now do we," he said, and I could feel a subtle change in his rhythm, and my own arousal just seemed to die slightly.

"Yes, we do," I assured him urgently, and he quirked his eyebrows at me and started speeding up again.

He banged me hard and I banged right back at him, happy to be back on track again.

And the old bastard derailed me again, didn't he.

It was like that for the next half hour or so, although it felt like an eternity to me. He'd build me up just to let me down, sometimes with a subtle lowering of my arousal, sometimes with a thump. I was damned if I could work out how he was doing it. Something that comes with experience, I guess.

I whined and whinged and pleaded for release and he blandly ignored me, keeping me on that roller coaster of emotion.

When I finally climaxed it hit me out of nowhere and just blew me away. I had no idea if it was deliberate or if Mr. Andrews had slipped up; all I knew was that I was screaming and bucking under him as he filled me.

Afterwards he told me not to worry about Phil. He, Mr. Andrews, would deal with that young man. Mr. Andrews hoped that that unpleasant experience wouldn't stop me sitting for them again.

What about being thoroughly ravished by him? Did that count? Would it happen again if I sat for them? If I asked, would he assume that I wanted it to? What does a girl do in a situation like this? Anyone know?