Babysitting... and Sitting and More

All characters are at least 18 years old.

*****

My boyfriend's forehead was covered in sweat, his hair damp and swept back on his head. His face was tight in the grimace of a guy trying not to cum. Below him, I wasn't making things easy on him by lifting my hips to meet every pounding thrust as he drove me into his bed. The box spring squealed beneath us with every stroke, and I wondered if we might break the bed's frame.

I dug my fingernails into his back, trying to get him to lay his muscular chest down on my glistening, bouncing breasts but he refused. Instead, he hooked his arms under my legs and pushed them back until my feet were almost over my head. I probably looked like a neatly folded shirt. He got himself into a rhythm with the extra leverage and punished my pussy with long, fluid strokes. He didn't even break stride when his bedroom door flew open and his older sister appeared in the doorway. I was in no position to cover myself, so I didn't even try.

"I told you to hurry up, pendejo. Mom will be home any minute," she said, glaring at the back of his head.

"Get the fuck outta here, Blanca," Manny responded. He pulled out just enough to grab my bra off the end of the bed and hurled it at his sister. She snatched it out of the air and turned it over in her hands before dropping it onto the floor. We briefly made awkward eye contact, and I had the sudden urge to crawl out from underneath her brother and under his bed.

"Two minutes," she said and added emphasis by jabbing two fingers into the air. She stepped out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Once she was gone, Manny settled all the way down, laying his chest against my tits. I kissed his earlobe as he picked up steam again, now with the desperation to finish before we were interrupted again. My hard nipples dug into his chest as he kept driving, moaning into the bed. His moans got louder and louder until he suddenly pushed his body up off of mine.

I shut my eyes tight and tried to pull my hair back out of the way and frowned as warm liquid splashed against my right cheek and across my forehead. More landed on my nose and my lips, making me tighten them to keep it out of my mouth. A few more drops landed on my neck and upper chest. There was a loud, satisfied sigh and then I felt him getting off the bed. His door opened and then closed, and a few moments later, it opened and closed again before I felt a warm cloth on my face, wiping away the cum. When he finished wiping, I opened my eyes. He was grinning down at me, his face dry but his hair still damp. I kissed my fingertips and then pressed them against his lips before I grabbed my clothes and headed to the bathroom.

When I got out, I was just in time to see his mom come through the door. "Jasmine, good evening."

"Hi, Mrs. Reyes," I said, avoiding her eyes and staring at the floor.

"How did the lesson go?" she asked, turning to Blanca, who was laid back on the couch with her legs dangling over the end.

"They got through 20 of the new vocab words," she waved her hand dismissively as she scrolled through movies on Netflix.

Blanca had been covering for us for the past two months. Manny was struggling with English, so his mom came up with the idea for me to tutor him after school twice a week. His mom insisted that Blanca was always there when I was there to keep us on track and discourage any fooling around. But we'd come up with our own idea: Mrs. Reyes paid me for tutoring, I slipped money to Manny, and he used it to bribe Blanca. Manny's grades had improved slightly, but, more often than not, we raced through the lessons and then had a quickie before Manny's mom got home while Blanca served as a lookout. The irony that Manny's mom was paying her daughter to keep her from finding out that we were having sex wasn't lost on me.

"Ok, Manny, get Jasmine home," Mrs. Reyes said, holding out her car keys. Manny snatched them and pecked his mom on the cheek. I cringed, hoping he'd washed my pussy juice off his face. "And come straight back."

"I will mom," Manny said.

"See you Thursday, Mrs. Reyes," I said, still not meeting her eyes.

"Bye Jasmine. Thanks for your help."

"Hurry back, eh. I need to go to work," Blanca said to Manny as we slipped out the door.

When I got out of the shower at home, my "I Kissed A Girl" ringtone chimed out from my phone's place next to the sink. I reached out for it, slipping on the wet floor, and clutched wildly for the shower curtain to stop my fall. Two of the rings holding the curtain gave way, but it managed to hold me. When I was satisfied that I wasn't going to fall and break an arm, I steadied myself and released the curtain.

The contact on the face of my phone set my heart racing: Ashley Jennings. They hadn't called me for a babysitting job in weeks. It had been so long that I'd started to think they'd never call again. Over time, I had even convinced myself that I didn't want them to. The money was good, but I didn't need the aggravation. After all our time together, Mr. Jennings had turned out to be nothing but a liar. He'd told me he wanted me, but he didn't want me, he wanted his wife. He hadn't so much as texted me since my last stupid job with them where I had to "babysit" one of his coworkers. And Mrs. Jennings wasn't any better. For all her syrupy sweet demeanor, she got off on throwing her marriage in my face. I didn't need their money or their dysfunctional house. I was making money tutoring Manny, albeit less, and I knew he actually cared about me and wasn't just using me to spice up his life.

In spite of myself, I took the call. "Hello," I said quietly as I brought the phone to my ear.

"Jasmine!" Mrs. Jennings' voice rang out, her voice as golden as her hair. "It's been a long time, stranger." She said it as if it was my fault her husband had cut me out of his life.

"Uhh...yeah," I forced a chuckle. "I've just been busy with school." Somehow, now I was the one apologizing to them. These people were sick.

"That's my girl, always hitting the books hard. Have you made a decision on where you're going in the fall?"

It was a question I fielded a hundred times a week. I could add her to the 20,000 other people pestering me on a constant basis about which college I planned to attend. "No, not yet, but I'm narrowing it down."

"You're going to have so much fun. Hopefully not too much fun," she added with a giggle. "The boys are going to eat you up."

"Just like your husband did?" I wanted to say but didn't. I felt guilty for even thinking it. It wasn't Mrs. Jennings' fault her husband was such a creep.

"So, anyway, I wanted to talk to you about something, but I want to do it in person. Are you free to come by some evening this week?"

"Yeah...I think maybe I could," I said before I could come up with an excuse not to. My first thought was that she'd finally found out about me and her husband and wanted to confront me about it, but she didn't seem the type to do that.

"Great! We want to talk to your mom about it too, but we want to treat you like an adult and come to you first."

That sounded ominous, but it stoked my curiosity.

I showed up at the Jennings' house the next evening. Mr. Jennings greeted me at the door. "Jasmine, so good to see you again," he said. He bowed slightly and waved his arm into the house, "Come on in." I nodded at him but didn't speak. The conflict of emotions swirling in my stomach had rendered me temporarily mute. How could I stay mad at a man that I had maybe almost fallen in love with? Still, he was a man who only saw me as a fucktoy.

Mrs. Jennings was on the couch in the living room holding their infant Alex who was sound asleep with his head thrown back in the crook of her arm. I took a seat cattycorner from the couch, reluctant to share the same furniture with a woman whose husband I had fucked on it.

Mr. Jennings sat in the opposite chair and turned his attention to his wife. She took a deep breath before speaking. It was the kind of breath that might be followed by something like, "My husband is mine, you wanton whore." But her smile told me that she had something else in mind.

"Ok, so, hear us out before you say no," she said, speaking quickly. "Your spring break is coming up soon, right?"

I crinkled my forehead. "Yeah, it's the week after next."

So, this was it. They wanted me to spend my last week of complete freedom in high school babysitting their child so the two of them could go jet away on a romantic vacation. I stood to make a ton of money, but I wasn't thrilled with the idea of being chained in their house 24 hours a day knowing they were probably on a tropical beach somewhere fucking each other's brains out.

"We know it's kind of late notice," Mrs. Jennings continued, "and you might already have plans. But if not, we were wondering...desperately hoping really...that you'd consider an extended job." I clasped my hands in my lap, digging my fingernails into my palm while trying to keep my face even. "One of Harold's coworkers has a cabin, and we were going to go up there with Alex for a week."

That didn't make a whole lot of sense. If they took Alex with them, they didn't need me to stay here to babysit him—unless...

"We wanted to see if you'd be interested in coming with us to watch Alex," Mr. Jennings jumped in. I was sure I must've missed something in the rapid monologue Mrs. Jennings had just reeled off. My head tilted to the side the way a dog does when it hears a high-pitched noise.

"It wouldn't be the entire time," Mrs. Jennings said, apparently reading my reaction as a negative one. "Only a few hours here and there. It'd be like a paid vacation really."

Manny was going on a college recruiting trip that week, and my best friends were borrowing one of their father's cars and taking a beach road trip that my mother had forbidden me to go on. This cabin trip was my only spring break option besides binging Netflix.

"You don't have to decide right now," Mrs. Jennings continued. "And we want you to know, you were our first option. Rachel's great, but I honestly don't think I could tolerate six hours in a car with that girl." My eyebrows shot up so high, they almost went over the top of my head. Hearing Mrs. Jennings talk about their primary babysitter was jarring. I think it was the first negative thing I'd ever heard her say about another person in my life. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to avoid laughing.

Mr. Jennings was sitting forward on the edge of his seat like he was waiting for the Powerball numbers to be released. He hadn't looked at me like that in so long that it made my heart physically hurt. Even the last time we'd been together had been an experience I wanted to forget. Like an idiot, in the days that followed, I kept thinking things were going to be different. But then I didn't hear a word from him as the days turned into weeks. No text, no call. Nothing. In spite of his words, he didn't care about me. I was just something for him to stick his dick in when he wanted to change things up.

No. I didn't need this. As remote as the possibility of having him one more time might be, there was my dignity to consider.

"It sounds really great," I said, my voice sounding strained, "but, I'm really sorry. I've got plans that week. I really couldn't break them for anything less than double my rate."

Mrs. Jennings didn't miss a beat. "We were planning to pay triple. And we'd book you at 8 hours a day even though we'd only need you a couple hours a day at the most."

Triple? The hell with dignity. With that kind of money, I could buy dignity. "If my mom is cool with it, I'll do it," I said, barely able to contain my excitement.

I was surprised that my mom so readily agreed to it. Her level of trust for the Jennings was remarkable considering how little she trusted just about everyone else in my life. She assumed Manny was just a high-testosterone jock who would dump me the second he set foot on his college campus. She thought of my friends as a bunch of pre-alcoholic, drug-dosing teens who would be pregnant before 21. Ironically, the one person in my life she seemed to fully trust was a guy that had been fucking me on his couch one night when she called me.

And so, when spring break came, I was in the front passenger seat of the Jennings' Ford Explorer heading up the highway to our woodland destination. Mrs. Jennings was in the back seat behind me with Alex, trying to amuse him with the blocks and stuffed animals she'd brought for the ride. After four thrown animals, she seemed close to letting him watch cartoons on her phone.

"You're going to love it up here, Jasmine," Mr. Jennings said. "It's right at the edge of civilization. There's electricity and running water, but that's about it. We'll be roughing it for sure, but we'll manage."

"Don't be silly," Mrs. Jennings called from the backseat. "It's a luxury house in a national park. There's a mall not twenty miles from the front door. We're not 'roughing it.'"

"Yeah, we'll see how you feel when the bug spray runs out," he muttered.

"What's that, sweetie?"

"Nothing. I was just telling Jasmine she'll feel great when the sun comes out."

The clouds were indeed beginning to break up. It had been overcast all afternoon with a threat of rain. My mood had matched the weather, but it was beginning to brighten. I had planned to ice out Mr. Jennings the entire trip, but he had a warm personality that could thaw anyone's mood.

"Have you ever been camping before?" Mr. Jennings asked.

"I went to a summer camp a few years ago, but that's about it."

"How was that?" he asked. "Hopefully it was better than the one Goldilocks went to," he said, chuckling.

"Goldilocks?" I turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

Mrs. Jennings sat forward and slapped his seat. "It's not funny, Harold. Someone could've been hurt."

"Tell her...tell her the story." Mr. Jennings was trying to choke back laughter.

"There's nothing to tell. Someone left out food near our cabin and it attracted bears. The rangers showed up and ran them off, but not before one of them somehow managed to get into our cabin and tear up my clothes. No one else's, just mine. All of my bras got ruined, so I had to go braless the rest of the time. You can imagine how that went. By the end of camp, the other kids were calling me 'Ample-chest Ashley.'"

By now, Mr. Jennings was in the throes of full-blown laughter. He was leaning on the steering wheel, and I had a passing thought as to whether he was in a good enough condition to drive.

"That...umm...that sounds terrible," I offered.

"It was humiliating. It's not funny, Harold!"

"This bra is too big. This bra is too small. This bra is just right. Yum, yum, yum." Mr. Jennings let out another guffaw, slapping my leg as he did.

Mrs. Jennings leaned over and slapped his seat again, which only made him laugh more. He eventually recovered before running us off the road into the wood line. His arm remained draped over the center console, his hand resting on my bare thigh. He tried to strike up more conversation with his wife, but the words didn't register in my brain. My mind was locked on the skin to skin contact we were sharing.

I stared at the back of his hand, trying to remember the way they felt the last time they were on my body. The strong but gentle grip. The way held me tight against his body. The taste of his fingers. Every caress penetrating through my skin to my soul.

Mr. Jennings was saying something to me now, but it was garbled. He had to repeat it twice before I came back to the present. "Earth to Jasmine," he said.

"Oh, sorry. I was...uhh...just thinking about the math test I have when we get back."

"Well, don't," he said. "You're on vacation. Enjoy it. You'll have your whole life to worry about work. Be sure to enjoy the little pleasures when you can." And once again, he flashed that totally disarming smile he'd used on me the first night I went to their house. "We should be there in another hour or so," he called out to both me and Mrs. Jennings.

"Thank goodness. I could use a shower," she said. "Care to join me, sir?" she said, sitting forward in her seat. I couldn't tell whether she could see his hand on my leg, but he didn't move it.

"What's the use of showering first if we're just going to get dirty as soon as we get there?" He stroked my leg with his fingertips as he spoke, making me melt into the seat.

"Harold!" Mrs. Jennings slapped his seat for the third time. "Jasmine doesn't want to hear that."

"What'd I say? I was talking about unloading the truck when we get there," Mr. Jennings said, trying to sound innocent.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I've heard worse from Manny and his football buddies." And it was true. On more than a few occasions, I'd had to endure listening to them recount their latest sexual conquests to each other in excruciating detail: every blowjob and every fuck in a car, comparisons about which girls at our school had the biggest tits or the longest nipples, which girls swallowed. Manny never shared stories about us when I was around, but I could tell from the leers of his friends when I was around that they knew how often I let him cum on my face.

When Mrs. Jennings sat back in her seat, Mr. Jennings' fingers traced further over my thigh until they reached my inner thigh. I turned my head and looked out the window, pretending not to notice and did my best to ignore him. Green trees whipped past us until it looked like we were driving alongside an evergreen wall.

Mr. Jennings, never one to be ignored, suddenly upped the ante by drawing his fingers along my inner thigh until they reached the edge of my shorts. Still, I refused to respond and continued staring out the window even though my vision was hazing over. My breathing was becoming more shallow, and I found myself clutching the edge of my seat.

Mr. Jennings' fingers pressed into my skin and wedged beneath the edge of my shorts. He didn't even slow down as they found the edge of my panties and slipped underneath. My legs fell wide open like a lock that had been unlocked with a golden key.

I had momentarily forgotten about Mrs. Jennings in the back seat until I heard her speaking to Alex. Sanity told me I should move Mr. Jennings' hand, but instead of grabbing his hand, I moved my hand to my mouth to try to mask my heavy breathing. Mr. Jennings' fingers danced across my mound and I was powerless to stop him. I hated myself for it. No matter how many times he treated me like trash, I always came back to him. He treated me the way he did, because I let him.

Drawing my left foot closer to the seat, I twisted my body so that he had easier access to my treasure box. Mr. Jennings withdrew his hand, showering me with disappointment, but the disappointment was short-lived. A moment later, he reached for the button on my shorts and tried to undo it with one hand. I gave a sly, sideways glance to the backseat. Mrs. Jennings was leaned over toward Alex's car seat watching Toy Story with him on her phone.

I shifted my eyes toward the front windshield while reaching for the button on my shorts. As soon as I had it undone, Mr. Jennings' hand came up over the top and slid beneath my panties, his fingers brushing through the thin triangle of hair above my lips. I glanced at his face through half-closed eyes. His eyes were focused on the road ahead, his jaw set. There was nothing to betray the fact that his fingertips were lightly prodding my soft lips as if he was testing the ripeness of peaches at the store.

A low moan escaped my lips, but I pressed the back of my hand tighter to my mouth to try to conceal it. At the same time, my other hand drifted up to my left breast, and I drew my fingertips across my painfully hard nipple. My hips took on a life of their own as I gently rocked back in forth in the seat, basking in the feel of Mr. Jennings' fingers. They ran along the length of my slit, caressing it as if his wife wasn't behind us. My breathing grew louder in my ears until I could no longer hear Mrs. Jennings and whatever she was showing Alex on her phone.