Justine

It's been almost a year since I last wrote for Literotica. I'd like to do more, but life is pretty fucking busy so I can only peck away at a story from time to time. Perhaps I should write shorter ones.

Anyway here's my latest, for what it's worth. Anyone engaged in sexual activity is over the age of 18, and is entirely imaginary, although I'd love to meet the two girls concerned. Oh, and if you're squeamish about anal, probably best if you quit now and find another story.

Enjoy!

H_S 03 June 2017.

*****

'We have a new babysitter for Saturday.' Nikky looked at me accusingly. 'A different one. Not the one

you

were supposed to arrange.'

'Right.' I've learned over the years not to bite at the hooks dangled in my direction.

'She's the friend of a friend of a woman at work.'

'So you haven't met her?'

'In between taking Emma to child care, and working and shopping and cooking and cleaning the house

and

servicing your carnal needs - no, I haven't, but Suzy assures me she's a sensible girl.'

The hook swung past me again but I let it go. 'Should we get her to come over tomorrow?' I asked, 'we can check her out.' We have an agreement that we both need to be convinced a babysitter is competent before we leave Emma with them.

My wife gave me a death stare, but it only lasted a few seconds so I figured it was a 'don't be stupid' look rather than a 'you've totally fucked up again' one, which invariably lasts a lot longer.

'She's coming over tomorrow,' she said at length, 'so we can check her out.'

'Right.' I said again. 'Do you know her name?'

'Justine.'

*****

My first impression of Justine was she didn't walk, but floated. I guess that's because my Sunday school teacher had always said that angels float, and that was the first word I could think of to describe her.

Angel.

Sounds dumb, I know, but she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen - and that includes my wife who is particularly hot. I opened the door and there she was, looking at me with eyes like molten chocolate and dressed in a little brown dress that exactly matched their colour. Her hair was a shade lighter, tied back in a pony tail that exposed the graceful perfection of her neck and the neat head balanced upon it: a little pointed face adorned by a button nose and cupid lips, set in a smile that brought dimples to her cheeks. About five eight, I suppose, with nice breasts pressing against the fabric of her dress and a generous curve to a waist as slender as a reed -

'Mr. Andrews?' I realised I'd been staring at her because a faint flush appeared on her face. 'I'm Justine, Kate Mayfield's daughter - I'm...um, babysitting for you at the weekend and your wife asked -'

'Ah - sorry, of course. Justine.' I thrust out my hand and took hers, feeling its warmth. 'Thank you for coming around. Uh - please come in...Nikky's inside.' I waved my hand in the general direction of the lounge and stood to one side. 'Please - come through.' It was hard to take my eyes off her. She was more than just a pretty girl - there was something about her. A presence, I suppose, an awareness of herself and others around her. Or was there? Maybe it was just because she was hot.

I followed her into the lounge and watched as Nikky stood up to meet her: the handshake, the eyes flicking over the girl's body and then her face, and then over her shoulder to me. She caught the guilty slide of my gaze as I dragged it away from that delightful little butt and gave me a hard look that sent a message like a barbed arrow.

I know what you're thinking Buster, and you shouldn't,

and then she smiled and asked Justine to sit down.

'So you're available on Saturday?'

'Oh yes. Your friend told me the times.'

'Have you baby sat before?'

'I have two little nephews, Mrs. Andrews, who I sometimes look after. Eighteen months and four years old.'

I listened to my wife's questions and the girl's answers. She had a soft voice, like the lips that formed the words, and her hands moved as she spoke: long, graceful fingers in cadence with her words. Yes, she'd done a first aid course and yes, she loved children. She worked in a kindergarten not far from where we lived - a part time job only to earn a little to help with the finances. I watched how she held herself, upright in the chair with her legs together and I saw that her shoes were old and scuffed at the heel.

'Do you have a car?' Nikky asked.

The girl shook her head. 'Not yet. I - uh, well...I'm saving for one.'

'So where do you live?'

'Paige. Just round from the shopping centre...you know, near where Woolies is.'

Paige was one of the older suburbs in town with smaller, blue collar houses. I pictured her bedroom - small, with faded wallpaper and a patterned carpet. A few dresses hanging in the wardrobe and a little box of cheap jewelry on the dresser. It was evident the family didn't have much.

Nikky turned to me. 'So how far is Paige?' She knew perfectly well, but she wanted me in the conversation.

'Um - twenty minutes or so.'

'I see.' Nikky drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair, thinking.

'I can get the bus,' Justine said. 'Really. It's no problem.'

'We don't do that. We would pick you up.' I said.

My wife glanced at me without speaking and the silence stretched out for a few moments. Justine's eyes were on Nikky, waiting. I could see the girl's hands clasped together, the knuckles tight, and in a moment of insight I understood her how much she needed this job.

'Do you have a boyfriend?' Nikky asked suddenly. 'We couldn't allow him here when you were sitting.'

'No, I don't.' A faint smile crossed her face. 'I used to, but he left to work in the mining sector. You know, up in the north west.'

'All right.' Nikky said. 'Well, Paul and I will discuss it and let you know.' She rose to her feet. 'Do we have your phone number?'

'Um - I wrote it down.' Justine extended her hand with a slip of paper on it. 'I'd really like to help,' she said, 'and I'm good at what I do, really.'

'I'm sure you are.' Nikky said. 'What would you expect to be paid?'

'Whatever you think is fair.'

'Right. Well, thank you for coming around.'

Justine smiled. 'It was nice meeting you.' Her brown eyes flicked over my face and I saw the faint flush of colour stain her cheeks as she read my interest. 'Do you think you'll need me on Saturday, Mrs. Andrews? It's just that -'

I opened my mouth to tell her yes, but Nikky shot me a glance. 'We'll call you,' she said firmly. 'Soon.'

She watched as the girl left and turned to me as the door clicked shut. 'So what was the 'we don't do that' shit?'

'What?'

'What you said to that girl.' She cleared her throat and did a passable imitation of my voice. 'We don't

do

that, honey....no, no, not with a body like yours. Oh, no, dearie me...we couldn't have you walking around with those lovely little titties jiggling up and down and that tight little tush swaying back and forth. We would pick you up, honey, and all it would cost you is a head job.' There was a glint in her eye.

'I don't think it would be clever letting a young girl walk between here and Paige at night.'

'Really? You didn't have any difficulty letting the last one walk home.'

'She was forty-seven years old and built like a Russian battleship.'

'And this one is not.' Nikky said. 'More like Lolita, and we all know what

she

did to her stepfather.'

I shrugged. 'You've got Justine all wrong, Nikky. She's just a shy kid.'

Nikky laughed. 'Then you didn't see what I saw, Paul.' She contemplated me for a moment and I could see her thinking. 'Now, go and get the crowbar from the garage and put it in the corner there.'

'The crowbar?'

'Yep. I'll need it on Saturday to prise your eyes off her butt.'

*****

I love it when Nikky crouches on the edge of the bed and we do it doggie, especially as it doesn't happen much anymore. I like to I watch my shaft as it pistons into her tight body, gleaming wet with her juices. And I like to see her subservient for a change, helpless on her knees as I fuck her senseless.

'You feel big tonight Paul,' she whispered. 'I can feel it stretching me.'

'I am, I am. I'm stretching your tight little pussy.' I leaned forward and grasped the nape of her neck with my left hand, pinning her to the bed as my hips thrust back and forth. 'Do you like being fucked?'

'God yes.'

'Like a helpless little slut?'

'Yes, yes,'

'Then tell me. Say it.'

'I love being fucked,' she whispered.

'Like a little slut. Say it.'

'I love being fucked like a little slut.'

'Hold your buns apart. Let me see what I'm doing to you.'

Her hands crept around to her buttocks to draw each firm cheek apart, revealing herself. The globes of her bottom barely filled each hand and her hips were narrow, giving a perspective of greater thickness as I thrust into her. In the soft illumination from the bedside lamp I could see a rim of white cream around her pussy and the wrinkled portal nestling above it. Nikky doesn't like anal play but I wet my thumb and caressed the tiny opening, delighting how the saliva gleamed in the fissures and marveling at how small and tight it was. One day -

'You'd like to do that to Justine, wouldn't you?' she asked suddenly.

'Do what?'

'Fuck her tight little booty. I saw it in your eyes - the way you were looking at it, imagining it was stretched around you.'

The image of the woman beneath me suddenly changed: Justine's dark hair instead of Nikky's blonde; her smaller frame, the café-au-lait skin. Her slender shoulders pressed into the mattress and her little bottom thrust upwards; her smell and taste and feel different to my wife's, and utterly forbidden. I imagined her tightness as I pressed into that cloying little tube and in my mind's eye I saw how much it struggled to accommodate my thickness, the rim stretched white and as the sphincter as tight as a banjo string. She was moaning softly as I violated her and those beautiful slim hands were fluttering on her buttocks, struggling to draw them wider apart to ease the pressure.

'Her boyfriend went to the mines,' Nikky whispered, 'and he's left her behind, all alone and as horny as a stoat. Can you imagine it, Paul? Leaving a girl like that?' She growled softly in her throat, almost like a purr. 'She doesn't want commitment, Paul...just a nice, safe guy to take her from time to time...ah!' Nikky grunted as I plunged harder, a shuddering breath. The bedsprings creaked under the onslaught and she was silent for a moment, each of us picturing the girl.

'She was looking at you,' Nikky continued, 'wondering what it would be like to do it with you. She sat in our lounge looking at my husband, and I could smell her juices seeping into her pants.'

'She was looking at you,' I said, 'all the time. Maybe -'

'But she was thinking of you,' Nikky whispered. 'Didn't you see her, blushing like a bride? She wants you, Paul, and here she is on her knees with your cock inside her. Are you in her pussy, Paul, or have you gone for that tight little booty?'

'Both,' I moaned. The imagery in my mind was crisp. I could almost smell her sex in my nostrils, picture the look in those chocolate eyes as she felt my shaft sinking into her body. Those long, slender legs waving like reeds and her fingers clasping my back, the nails like little pink shells, and her breath would be whistling though those soft, moist lips.

'Tell me,' Nikky gasped. 'Tell me what we'd do to her.'

'She'd be on the bed here - next to you,' I said. 'Kneeling, just like you - so close...touching you. Her hand on your arm, her face turned toward you. She wants you to kiss her, Nikky.'

'I will, I will.'

'And she's waiting for me, too: her thighs spread. That tight little bottom in the air, cheeks open...waiting for me to come out of you and go into her.'

'I can smell her, right next to me...her perfume, her skin...'

'And her sex.'

'Yes, yes. I can smell her sex, like a little bitch on heat.'

'Will you watch me fuck her?'

'God yes, but first I fuck you.' She pulled away and rolled off the bed, pressing me down with urgent hands to lie on my back; regarding me with hungry eyes before clambering over me and grasping my cock with slippery fingers to hold it at the entrance to her body. The glorious mane of her hair swung forward as she peered down at me, and then I was gliding deep into her body again and she levered herself up and down.

'Ah, ah!' she murmured. 'That's good!' Her hips were undulating, sucking me into her, and I could hear the soft squelch of her pussy as the movement broke the tight seal between us. I thrust upwards and she shook her head.

'Keep still. Let me do it.'

I stopped moving and watched her, delighting in the sight. She was crouching over me with her feet either side of my hips, bobbing up and down with her hands pressed against my chest to steady herself. Shallow strokes, barely allowing the head of my cock inside her, interspersed with long deep ones drilling into her core.

'You're fucking me deep,' she gasped, 'that's it...that's it,' and she studied the shaft sliding into her for a few moments before regarding me with pupils dilated with desire. 'See the cream, Paul?' Her voice was as soft as the lips caressing my shaft. 'That's my cream...oozing out of me as we fuck. Do you like it?'

'I love it, baby. I love it when you cream me.'

'I have a lot, don't I?' She gathered her juices from the rim of my cock with one slim hand, holding it toward my face. 'That's just a bit of what I make, and I love it too.'

'Tell me what it tastes like.'

Nikky lifted her hand and licked between her fingers, her tongue flicking like a kitten's. In the soft light I could see the strands of juice stringing, and she looked at me and laughed. 'That's fucking juice,' she said, 'and it tastes lovely. Do you want some?'

I nodded and her fingers slid over the point of our union again, gathering the rim of froth that had formed there. She stretched her fingers towards my face and I licked them eagerly, tasting the essence of my wife's body. She began to move again, watching me with hooded eyes, her hips rotating with each slide of her body. The sensation was exquisite and I felt the seeds of my orgasm building in my balls.

'I'm going to cum, Nikky. Stop...ah...stop. It's too soon.'

But she didn't stop. She just kept riding me, her hips moving sinuously and her nails raking my chest, and she watched my face with those honey coloured eyes as I spiraled upwards, upwards, the pressure building until I could hold back no longer. For an infinitesimal moment I hovered on the brink, buried far inside my wife's body, and then with a shuddering gasp I burst inside her.

'That's it, baby.' Her voice was soft, crooning almost. 'Cum into me. Spray into me.' Her hips were undulating, sucking at the trembling shaft jammed between them, and she was smiling down at me, her voice husky with desire. 'It's so hot, Paul. I can feel you painting me, spraying into that tight little pussy! Can you feel it too?' She leaned back to change the angle of penetration and her fingers gripped the root of my shaft tightly, restricting the deluge. 'Hose into me, baby...ah, yes, that's it, that's it!'

It seemed to go on forever - searing jets of white hot semen spraying into her, splattering into her somewhere behind that flat little belly that undulated and twitched as she received it. I was pinned down, helpless as she milked each spurt out of me until there was nothing left, and I heard her chuckle as she regarded my spent body.

'Was that good, baby?' She levered herself up and peered down at herself. 'Look at what you gave me,' and I saw her muscles tense. A thin stream of my sperm oozed from between her vulval lips to splatter over my belly, white and sticky, and she laughed softly into my face.

'That's mine, Paul,' she murmured, 'just remember that. You give it to me, not to Little Miss Babysitter. Not ever.'

But as I gazed up at her I couldn't help but imagine what expression might be on Justine's little cherub face when she felt me filling

her

tight little cunt with my seed.

*

'I do hope you're happy with my work,' she was clutching the limp banknotes, her expression filled with concern.

Nikky nodded briefly, unsmiling, and I hurried to reassure the girl. 'Of course, Justine. Quite happy. Perhaps you could come around and babysit next week? Thursday?'

Her face turned to mine, those chocolate brown eyes shining, happy that she'd got more work. 'Oh, yes. Thursday. That's easy, Mr. Andrews. Seven o'clock still?'

I nodded and she held my gaze a little longer before sliding away, turning to the sofa to pick up her little black bag. 'Um, well, thank you - I'll be going now. See you next -'

'I said I'd run you home.'

'There's no need, really. I'll be quite safe. It's only half an hour on the bus.'

'The next bus doesn't go for nearly an hour.' Nikky's voice was crisp. 'Of course Paul will take you. He'll be back before eleven, so it's really no problem.' The clock above the mantle showed ten twenty and I saw she had calculated the round trip to the nearest minute. Thirty in a bus, twenty by car each way. No time to stop, no time for temptation. She smiled sweetly at me and I saw the brightness of her eyes. 'I want you in bed early, Paul. You have a busy day tomorrow.'

I watched the girl as she sat beside me, looking ahead without speaking. Each street light illuminated her face briefly before plunging it back into darkness as we passed under it. In profile she looked even younger with her hair tied back with a scrap of faded ribbon and her lips soft and wet.

'I want you to know we're very happy with what you did tonight, I told her. 'Emma is usually very good but she's teething, and that upsets her.'

She turned to me, a brief flash of white teeth in a smile that was perfect. God, she was beautiful.

'I think she's a lovely little girl.' The words trailed off and I thought she was done, but she spoke again. 'I had a little niece like her, and she was lovely too. She was my favourite.'

'What happened to her?'

'She was in the family SUV, travelling down to the south coast towards Coloola Bay. Do you know that road?' she glanced at me briefly, watching my denial. 'The King's Highway, they call it.' She shook her head, the hair shining briefly in a passing lamp. 'With a name like that you'd think they'd spend a bit of money on it wouldn't you, but it's a shocker. Just past Oberon there's a series of tight bends, one after another - the locals call it The Slalom, because city folk hurrying down to the coast think they're in racing cars when they go through them. There's at least one accident a year there and two years ago it was uncle Terry's turn. He and his wife were OK but Stacey's child seat wasn't fastened properly.'

'I'm very sorry.'

She shrugged briefly. 'I've tried to move on but your little girl reminded me so much of her.'

'If you find it too painful we won't mind if you quit.'

'Oh, no!' she reached over and grasped my arm. 'I didn't mean that! I really like working for you and Mrs. Andrews, and I need the money.' Her eyes were on mine, dark pools of emotion in her face. 'Please don't think I want to leave.'

'All right.' I could feel her hand on my sleeve gripping me tightly as if to reinforce her words, and then she released it and turned away, and I could feel the residual warmth of her touch like hot coals on my skin.

'As I said, Justine, we're very happy you're looking after Emma. We like her to have the same person every time we go out.'

'Thank you.' It had begun to rain a little and the street lamps threw a diffused pattern of light over her face. 'You need to take the next turn left.'