I was quite surprised to get a call from the Roslan's to see if I could do an overnight babysitting job. Since their eldest, Michael, turned sixteen, they'd been depending on him to babysit his younger sisters when they went out. (Much to his disgust, I heard.)
Michael, in my humble opinion, is a gormless idiot who is absolutely full of himself. He's the type of male who thinks with his balls and, also in my opinion, his behaviour hints that he must have the smallest set ever known. His only redeeming feature is that he fancies me, which shows that he has good taste, even if it also shows that he doesn't have any common sense. I mean, he's three years younger than me. Me become interested in him? As if. . .
I fronted up at the Roslan's place as requested and Mrs Roslan told me what was going on. It appeared that she and her husband and Michael all had appointments. She and her husband going off to one, from which they wouldn't be back until the next day, and Michael going to some sort of football meeting and they didn't know what time he would be back.
That last rather surprised me, as they tend to keep a fairly close eye on Michael's whereabouts. Maybe they've decided he's growing up.
Michael promptly demonstrated that he hadn't. I joined his little sisters and he came wandering in and watched me. Everywhere I went I'd find him in the vicinity, drooling and watching and trying to look down my top or just ogling my butt in my jeans. Geez, what a pest.
Eventually his mother came and dragged him away, telling him that it was way past time he got ready. The three of them were finally ready to depart, just waiting for a taxi to arrive. I assumed the taxi was for Michael, one way to make sure he got to his destination. The taxi beeped and they all departed, taxi first, followed by the Roslan's car.
For the rest of the evening the girls and I just mucked around generally, and eventually they ran out of energy. At that point it was baths and beds and they were very quickly asleep, leaving me with time to kill.
I watched some TV and listened to some music and messaged friends and nattered on Facebook, just making busy. Time passed surprisingly swiftly and around eleven I was ready for bed myself. I was walking down to the guest room when I heard a car outside. A glance out the window showed a taxi had pulled up. Michael was home. Definitely time for my bed.
Now the Roslan's guest room door had a tricky catch. If you just pulled the door shut it would look closed, but a few moments later it would pop open a few inches. To close it properly you had to give a firm tug after it looked as though it was closed. I was about to give it that firm tug when a little imp of mischief bit me.
Has there ever been a time when you know what you're about to do is wrong, but you know you're going to go ahead and do it anyway? I didn't give the door that firm tug and as I turned away from it I hear the faint click as it swung back open a few inches. I could also hear footsteps coming down the hall.
I positioned myself at the end of the bed, facing the dressing table. Anyone rude enough to peep through the partly open door would be able to see me, both from behind and reflected in the mirror. Then I started to undress.
I was unbuttoning my blouse when I heard the footsteps falter and stop. They didn't start up again. First my blouse came off, then my shoes. Next my jeans, and boy, did I make a production of wriggling out of them. And it was quite legitimate wriggling, or mostly so, anyway, because they were rather tight.
Dressed in bra and panties I primped and preened in front of the mirror, showing off my figure to myself. And if Michael was watching, a chance on which I was willing to lay serious money, he could eat his heart out, seeing what he couldn't have. Not only couldn't he have it, he couldn't even tell anyone. If his parents found out he was peeping at guests they'd kill him. And it was going to get worse for Michael, baby.
My bra came of, and I spent some more time doing some mirror work. Cupping my breasts and holding them up, turning away to give myself a side view (and Michael a full view).
Finally my panties came down. That must have been extremely frustrating for Michael, as the mirror didn't quite go deep enough to reflect my pussy. A bit more preening, looking as though I was about to turn toward the door so that he'd get a full frontal, but never quite doing it. Then I moved deeper into the room, away from the mirror, with him never quite getting that last forbidden look.
I couldn't quite believe it when I heard the bedroom door bang closed firmly enough for the catch to engage properly. I thought for a split second that Michael had banged it closed out of frustration, but he wouldn't. He'd just sneak off. He'd come into my bedroom and I was naked. I was going to kill him.
I spun around, completely forgetting that I was starkers, ready to blast him. Then I just froze, mouth open, staring, mind whirring frantically.
It wasn't Michael, or rather it was, but it was Michael Senior, otherwise known as Mr Roslan. With one sickening rush it all became clear. Mrs Roslan had gone out with her son, Michael, and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. The Michael who was going to the football meeting was Mr Roslan, and he'd returned, and got a decent eyeful of a strip tease through the slightly open door.
I started to yammer, "What are you doing in here?" when it became pretty plain that it was a stupid question. Michael Sr. was looking at me with very hot eyes and he was calmly stripping while he watched me.
The look in his eyes reminded me of my current lack of attire and my hands hastily tried to cover me. Not with much success, I might add.
"Mr Roslan," I protested, "You have to leave immediately. I'll forget about this intrusion, but it mustn't happen again."
The hairy brute had the gall to laugh at me. I call him a hairy brute because, while it took me nearly ten minutes to get undressed, it took him ten seconds to strip and, naked, he looked like a blasted gorilla. An unfortunately aroused gorilla. Enormously aroused, it seemed to me.
My mind was whirring. Michael Jr. I could handle with no problems, even naked. Michael Sr. was another matter completely. There was no way I could dominate him psychologically, and testing his strength would be worse than stupid. I'd appeal to his better nature, but right now he probably considered that his better nature was sticking out in front of him. Too far in front of him for my peace of mind. That left running.
As soon as he tried to grab me I'd jump the other way and get out of the room and out of the house. I had no objection to running down the street, even dressed as I was. OK. Even as undressed as I was. But it wouldn't come to that. As soon as I got out of the house Michael would see reason. He wouldn't dare let me go running around outside screaming. He'd toss me my clothes and I'd get dressed and head for home. I wouldn't even wait for my pay.
He came for me, moving down around the bed to get to me. As soon as he was down next to the dressing table I dived over the bed, intending to roll off it and run. I couldn't believe it when he lunged sidewards and caught my ankle. Apparently one reason he reminded me of a gorilla was the length of his arms.
He caught my ankle and yanked on it, and I landed face down on the bed. I rolled over and tried to hit him as he dived onto the bed, laughing. He caught my hands and held them both in one of his, pinning them above my head. He was lying half on the bed, half on me. I could feel his erection pressed hard against my stomach. One of his legs was pressing between mine.
Fighting wasn't going to get me anywhere. As a matter of fact it would probably have a negative impact. As soon as I started to kick and struggle he'd have his leg jammed between mine, giving him access to where I didn't want him to have access. I played dead.
Not just dead, but dead with an advanced case of rigor mortis. I held myself stiff and still, my legs locked together.
Surprisingly, he didn't try to force my legs apart. He left his leg pressing between mine, but he wasn't applying any real pressure, just sort of leaning onto them. He did, however, decide to enjoy my breasts.
With one hand holding both mine and his leg pinning me down he had a captive target for his free hand to explore. And explore it did, wandering back and forth across my breasts, squeezing and stroking. Down over my tummy, pressing against my mons but, for some reason, not trying to force its way between my legs. Not that it would have succeeded, the way my legs were clamped together.
Michael bent his head and started making a meal of my breasts, nibbling and sucking, kissing and licking. I'd never known just how sensitive my nipples were. Michael aroused them in nothing flat, sucking and teasing them, and I could feel his touch all the way down to my groin.
After a while Michael raised his head and looked at me.
"I don't know why you're resisting," he said. "You were giving me a very blatant invitation with your little strip tease."
I was not, but how the hell could I explain that I'd thought I'd been rather maliciously teasing his son. I couldn't, now could I? All I could do was protest that I hadn't known the door had opened and what was more, I hadn't known he was out there. The last was certainly true.
He didn't believe me. That was plain from the sceptical look on his face. As far as he was concerned I'd invited him in and he was responding. If I'd changed my mind, bad luck. He hadn't.
"It's time we moved those legs apart," he told me.
Good luck on that, I thought, trying to weld my legs to each other. To my surprise all he did was hook his foot over my ankle and gently pull. You can imagine my shock when my leg just moved with him, putting up no resistance whatsoever. I mean, he just tugged and my legs parted, even though I was trying to clamp them together.
"It's called muscle fatigue," Michael said, noting my consternation. "You've been clamping your legs together unnaturally tightly, and your muscles have just given up on the job."
"But if I hadn't clamped them together your knee would have pushed my legs apart," I pointed out.
"True. I guess Mother Nature is against you and wants you to do this."
Stuff want Mother Nature wanted. She wasn't the one about to be screwed. Not that there seemed to be anything I could do about it.
"Look, Mr Roslan, I really don't want this. Please let me go."
Before he answered his hand came reaching down between my legs, covering my mound. His fingers started rubbing and probing, and one slipped between my lips, exploring inside. He started shaking his head.
"You're telling fibs," he murmured. "You're hot and you're wet. You're pouting and ready to receive me. How can you say you don't want this?"
Unfortunately, he was telling the truth. When I'd been putting on my little display I'd been rubbing myself and getting myself slightly excited. Nothing that had happened since had done anything to lessen that excitement. Increase it, yes, but not lessen. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
