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Message-ID: <43642asstr$1059372603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Norm DePloom" <NormNonSpamusDePloom@hotmail.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 27 Jul 2003 22:17:17 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} RP "Babysitting Jeremy" part 02{Norm DePloom}(MWfb,cons,dom,inc)
Date: Mon, 28 Jul 2003 02:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Caveat lector.

If you don't like sex stories, don't read it.
If you don't like stories about sex with underage children,
don't read it.
If you don't like stories bout forced sex, don't read it.
If you are below the arbitrary age set for your area, don't
read it.
If for any reason it is illegal for you to read this story,
don't read it.

Find my stories here-
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/normdeploom/

Copyright (C) 2003 Norm DePloom.  ALL Rights Reserved
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.  The
author may be contacted at 'MyStories at normdeploom dot
com'

All the characters and events in this story are fictional;
any resemblance to real people or events is entirely
coincidental.

Babysitting Jeremy
Part 02

By
Norm DePloom


As Jeremy's father lifted the still sleeping boy from my
naked body I, being determined to maintain at least a
modicum of my dignity, refused to cover my body or even
close my legs. In spite of my burning face, I stared back
at Jeremy's father as his eyes moved over my nude form, and
experienced a thrill even more powerful than the one I had
felt when Jeremy first looked at me.  I could see the
father's cock growing inside his trousers, and I could feel
his desire to take me just as his son had.  It was all I
could do, despite my embarrassment, to keep from wiggling
my hips in an obscene invitation.

"You'd better get dressed," he said.  As soon as he turned
to carry his still naked, sleeping son towards the bedrooms,
I got off the couch and headed for the dinning room.  I could
hear Jeremy's parents arguing in their room while I dressed,
or at least I could hear Jeremy's mother's screeching.
Jeremy's father's answers were not loud enough for me to
make out what he was saying.

"Get that whore out of my house," I heard her screech.

"I don't care if that slut hears me," she said next.  I was
beginning to worry about what was going to happen, both to
me and to Jeremy.  I hadn't given any thought to the
consequences of being caught with a young boy's cock
practically inside my cunt.  No doubt, I would never baby
sit for Jeremy again and, if this got out, my babysitting
career in general would be over, not to mention the
humiliation for me, and my parents.  When Jeremy's father
reappeared to take me home I was wondering if my dad could
get a job in another state, or at least another city.

"And you come right home," Jeremy's mother screeched at her
husband as he and I walked to the front door, "I don't want
you spending time with that tramp."  We rode in silence to
my parent's house.

"Waite," he said as I opened the door, "don't you want your
pay?"  I had totally forgotten about being paid, I had
assumed that Jeremy's parents would never pay me after what
they saw.  Jeremy's father pulled out the money for my night
of 'babysitting'.

"I don't think," he said, adding a couple of extra bills,
"that you should mention this to anyone.  It would be
embarrassing, to say the least, for everyone involved."

"Your wife probably called my mother as soon as we left,"
I said as I took the money, "I'll be grounded until I'm
forty."

"I don't think so," Jeremy's father chuckled, "I told her
not to."  He laughed at my disbelieving look.  From what
I had observed, Jeremy's mother seemed to be the one in
charge.  "At the end of the day," Jeremy's father explained,
"when push comes to shove, as they say, Betsy will do as
she's told."  I climbed out of the car and, just as I closed
the door, I heard three words that sent shivers of
excitement, fear, and dread up and down my spine.

"As will you," Jeremy's father said.  I walked into the
house pondering the idea that Jeremy's father had some
unsuspected power over his wife.  I spent the next few days
waiting for the other shoe to drop, but there was no phone
call to my mother and no crying lectures from my mother
about how disappointed she and my father were.

I had learned two things that night with Jeremy; the first
thing I learned was that I really loved fucking and second,
that nasty, dirty, perverted sex was the best.  I knew from
the begining that one of the reasons fucking Jeremy had been
such a mind blowing thrill was because it was a totally
depraved and perverted rebellion against social norms.  I
knew even before I got out of the car that I wanted to feel
that thrill again.  I never seriously considered letting
my boyfriend fuck me.  For a girl my age fucking her
boyfriend was a social taboo, but it was a taboo 'more
honored in the breach', as Hamlet said.  I mean is anyone
ever really surprised to find out that a sixteen year old
girl is 'going all the way' with her boyfriend?  During the
days, and nights, that followed, while I waited to see if
my life was going to be torn apart by my having been caught
fucking a ten-year-old, I couldn't stop thinking about two
things (especially when I was laying on my back with my hand
between my legs) one was the way Jeremy's father had looked
at my naked body after he picked up his son and the rapidly
growing bulge I'd seen in his trousers, the second thing
was those three words he said as I got out of the car, 'as
will you'.  Suddenly the imaginary faceless stranger who
came into my bedroom nearly every night and made me do
'things' had a face.  Thursday, after school, mom called
me to the phone.

"It's Mrs. Hoover," mom announced holding the phone out in
my direction.  My mom and Jeremy's mother were on a first
name basis with each other, but my parents were very strict
about me addressing adults properly and respectfully.

"Hello Mrs. Hoover," I said with more than just a bit of
trepidation.

"Listen whore," Mrs. Hoover's cold voice dripped anger and
disdain, "you're going to come over here at five o'clock
on Saturday."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hoover," I said, feeling a wave of relief.

"Don't you 'thank you Mrs. Hoover' me you useless slut, I
don't want anything to do with you, I don't want a cunt like
you in my house or anywhere near my husband and son.  The
only reason I'm doing this is because I've been given no
choice, plan on staying late."  I heard a click.

"Thank you Mrs. Hoover, I'd love to," I said into the dead
phone, then hung up.

"Babysiting for Jeremy again?"  My mom asked.

"Uh, yea, it looks like it."

"That's good, Jeremy is such a nice, well behaved young
man," my mom had a tendancy to prattle on, on occasion, "and
so mature for his age.  Don't you think?"

"Yes mom," I replied, thinking about the feel of Jeremy
between my legs, "he's very mature for his age."  I smiled
at my mom, "I've got some home work to do."  I excused myself
and locked myself in my bedroom.  I suddenly had some urgent
'needs' that had to be taken care of.  I  wasn't sure if
I was afraid that Jeremy's father would make me do nasty
perverted sexual things when I went over there on Saturday,
or if I was afraid he wouldn't.  For the time being I just
contemplated the fact that I was going to have to do
whatever he wanted.  I looked around the room and grabbed
my hairbrush.  I know, you can't get much more of a cliche
than that, but I'd never penetrated myself when I
masturbated before and I wanted something a little bigger
than Jeremy's little-boy hard on, but not so big that it
might hurt, and the hairbrush handle looked like just the
thing.

I rubbed my clitoris with the fingertips of my right hand
while I worked the plastic handle of the hairbrush into my
body.  I couldn't believe how great it felt to push the
handle in and out of my pussy while I rubbed my clitoris.
I closed my eyes and thought about the sex picture book that
Jeremy had shown to me.  I imagined Mr. Hoover forcing me
into each position I could remember from the book while he
used my body like it was a sex toy.  In my mind, Mrs. Hoover
repeatedly slapped my face and breasts, telling me in great
detail exactly what kind of tramp, slut, and whore I was.
In spite of having the best orgasm of my life, I kept rubbing
my clitoris and fucking my cunt with the plastic hairbrush
handle until I came a second time, even harder than I did
the first time.  As soon as my second orgasm faded away,
my body relaxed and I fell asleep.  The next thing I knew,
my mother was pounding on the door and yelling that dinner
was ready.  Good thing I locked the door.

"OK, mom," I yelled to put a stop to the pounding, then
started to sit up only to discover that the hairbrush was
still sticking out of my pussy.  I pulled it out, tossed
it onto the bed then stood up.  It was during dinner that
I realized that my habit of masturbating every night, just
before I went to sleep, had conditioned my body to fall
asleep after I had an orgasm.

"What's the matter?"  My dad asked after I'd eaten for
several minutes in uncharacteristic silence.

"Nothing," I said, giving him the stock teen-age answered
to such a question, "I'm just tired."

"If you're too tired, dear," my mom said giving me a
concerned look, "why don't you call Mrs. Hoover back and
tell her she'll need to get another baby-sitter for
Saturday?"

"I couldn't do that, mom."  How could I explain that the
phone call had been more of a command than a job offer?

"Your health is more important than the money, dear, I'm
sure Betty can find another sitter for Saturday."

"No, I'll..."  I was interrupted by my father.

"I'll just call Sam and straighten this out."  My dad
actually started to get up from the table, he was going to
'straighten this out' right now.  I just knew that any call
to the Hoovers from either of my parents would result in
total disaster for all of us.

"Please," I pleaded, "I'll get a good night's sleep tonight,
and everything will be fine in the morning," I looked back
and forth from my mom to my dad, "promise," I finished,
holding my hand up in the Boy Scout salute.

"OK, dear, we know your mature enough to take care of these
things yourself," mom said giving my arm a pat, "It's  just
that sometimes we find it hard to believe our little girl
is growing up."  You wouldn't believe how much I'm growing
up, I thought as I smiled back at her.  For the rest of the
meal I concentrated on being my usual verbose self,
mindlessly chattering about inconsequential trivia
instead of pondering what might happen to me two days in
the future.

All day Friday I couldn't help thinking about what I hoped,
or feared, would happen to me the next evening.  The hope
changed to fear, then back to hope, second by second with
no warning or pattern.  I was surprised, and confused by
the realization that the memory of the scathing, angry,
mocking tones of Mrs. Hoover when she called me a slut, a
whore, and a tramp, added an unexpected thrill and
excitement to my daydreams of being used like a mindless
sex object by Mr. Hoover.  I was reprimanded in every class
for not paying attention, something that had never happened
to me before.  I'd always been careful to at least look like
I was listening to the teacher.  No matter what happened
Saturday night, these experiences had added a whole new
dimension to my life and my masturbating.  I could no longer
look at any cylindrical object without wondering what it
would feel like if it were pushed inside my constantly wet
pussy.

Saturday was the worst.  All day while I did my chores around
the house I could think of nothing but what might happen
that night.  I lost track of how many times I locked myself
in my bedroom to relieve some of the growing tension with
a quick masturbatory session.  I kept going into the
bathroom to make sure I wasn't creating a visible wet spot
in the crotch of my shorts.

At three o'clock I masturbated again, took a nice long bath,
then masturbated one final time befor I dressed to go to
the Hoover's house.  I really struggled with what I should
wear, and finally decided to wear the same outfit I'd worn
the previous Saturday.  Mom and dad gave me a ride to the
Hoover's house on their way to a movie.  The closer we got
the more nervous, and excited I became.  When I got to the
door, I felt more like throwing up and running away than
I did like ringing the bell.  As my parents drove off, I
pushed the button and waited.

"Hi," Jeremy said with a shy smile, after he opened the door,
"come on in."  Jeremy took my hand and led my through the
house to the living room where Mr. Hoover was sitting in
the overstuffed chair, and Mrs. Hoover was glaring at me
from the end of the couch nearest her husband.  Mrs.
Hoover's arms were crossed over her breasts, her left leg
was crossed over her right, and her left foot bounced up
and down at t frantic rate.

"You're really going to do this?"  Mrs. Hoover said looking
at her husband, "you're really going to fuck that dirty
little slut right here in front of me?"

"Shut up, betty," Mr. Hoover said sternly looking at his
wife, "shut up or I'll strip you naked and fuck you in front
of her."  Mrs. Hoover glared at her husband, but remained
silent.

"Stand in front of us," Mr. Hoover said looking at me,
"Jeremy, you sit on the couch with your mother."  Jeremy
sat on the couch and leaned his head against his mother's
arm.  He couldn't hide his excited anticipation of what was
going to happen.  I felt, more than anything else, a sense
of relief from hearing this confirmation of my destiny.

"That was a very perverted thing you did last week, young
lady," Mr. Hoover said, looking me over.  I blushed, both
from Mr. Hoover's frank examination of my still clothed
body and the memories of young Jeremy between my naked, wide
spread thighs pumping his little boy hardon in and out of
my virgin pussy.

"You know that if people found out about that you and your
parents would be in serious trouble?"  Aa Mr. Hoover
lectured me on my behaviour the previous week, I watched
Jeremy slip his hand inside his mother's blouse and begin
to pinch and tug on her nipples.

"Yes," I couldn't argue with him on that, I'd spent a good
many hours the previous week imagining all the bad things
that would happen if this became generally known.

"So, the logical conclusion would be that you have to do
pretty much anything we tell you to if you want us to keep
quite about what we saw when we came home last Saturday."

"Yes," and at that point I really, truly, for the first time,
realized what kind of power I was handing over to this man.
Fear gripped my stomach and I had an almost irresistable
urge to vomit, then flee from the Hoover house as fast as
I could run.  It's one thing to fantasies about a man
controlling your life, and using your body in whatever way
he wishes, whenever he wishes, it's quite another thing to
be standing in front of the man and actually have it
happening.

"Considering all that," Mr. Hoover continued, relaxing
back in his chair, " and over the strenous objections of
Mrs. Hoover, Jeremy and I have decided to make you the
Hoover family fuck toy,"  The words hit me like a sledge
hammer triggering additional waves of fear and panic, mixed
with an excitement I'd only imagined before.  I looked over
at Jeremy and his mother, she stared back at me with
malicious anger, but I noticed, through the thin blouse she
was wearing, that her nipples had become just as hard as
mine were.  As I watched, Jeremy grinned back at me and
continued to twist and tug on his mother's erect nipples.

"Why don't you show us your breasts?"  Although it was
phrased as a question, we all knew that it was a command.
"Like you showed them to Jeremy the first time."  Everyone
in the room had already seen me completely naked, so I have
no idea where the sudden shyness came from.  With my face
turning bright red, I pulled my sweater up to my armpits
then reaching behind my back with both hands, unclasped my
bra and pulled it up, exposing my tits for their
entertainment.

"Very nice," Mr. Hoover said, filling me with pride and
excitement, "don't you think she has nice tits, son?"

"Yes daddy," Jeremy answered while he stared at my breasts
and continued playing with his mother's nipples.

"Doesn't she have nice breasts, Betty?"  Mr. Hoover asked
his wife.

"Yes," Mrs. Hoover spoke as if the words were being forced
from her body, "the whore has nice tits."  She continued
glaring at me angrily, even while admitting that my breasts
were nice.

"Now, lift your skirt and pull down your panties."  With
my sweater and bra held up under my arm pits, and my breasts
still on display for the Hoover family, I lifted my skirt
with my left hand and pulled my panties down far enough to
expose my crotch with my right hand.  I looked, and felt,
like a naughty schoolgirl showing herself to the boys
behind the bushes in the school yard during resess.

I had actually done that once.  Back when I was in the sixth
grade, and my breasts had just started to grow.  Another
girl and I had a contest, and the looser had to expose
herself to the boys we hung out with just as I was doing
now for Jeremy and his father's amusement.  That time with
the boys, back in the sixth grade, was the first time I
discovered how exciting doing 'nasty' things could be.  I'd
never admit that I'd lost the contest on purpose, but the
other girl had never beaten me before that and never did
again after that.  I remember the thrill and excitement that
seemed to permeat every cell in my body as the boys examined
my young, almost hairless pussy, and the large puffy
nipples that sat atop the cones of flesh that would, over
the next couple of years, become the breasts now, once again,
on display.  I remember one boy reaching out and touching
me.  His finger, purely by accident I'm sure, landed right
on my young clitoris.  It felt like some sort of mysterious
'pleasure switch' had been actuated by that boy's finger
touching me there.  As soon as I got home, I masturbated
for the first time and, as you know, I haven't stopped since
that day.

"Why  don't you go ahead and take off your clothes," once
again Mr. Hoover's command was phrased as a polite request,
"I think it will be a much more convenient if you're naked."
I felt sure his commands would become a lot more forceful
the first time I failed to comply with one of his 'requests'.
While the three Hoovers, all still wearing clothes, watched
I pulled my sweater over my head, then let my bra straps
slip down my arms.  I tossed the sweater and bra onto an
unoccupied chair, then unhooked and unzipped my skirt.  I
could feel my embarrassed red blush spreading from my
cheeks down my neck and across my chest.  I was sure that,
if there was a sudden power failure, the Hoovers could heat
their house with, and read by, the glow of my blush.  When
I let my skirt slide down my legs, my panties were still
down on my thighs.  I pushed them down the rest of the way
and my skirt, and panties joined my sweater and bra on the
chair, leaving me standing in the Hoover's living room, my
nipples hard with excitement, and my face red with
embarrassment, wearing nothing except my sandals.

"Turn around in a circle," Mr. Hoover ordered.  As I did
so, Mr. Hoover, Jeremy, and even Mrs. Hoover looked over
my naked body with intense interest.

"The whore needs to firm up her butt a bit," Mrs. Hoover
observed.

"Yes, I think you're right Betty," Mr. Hoover said.  It was
the first criticism I had received, and it brought tears
to my eyes.  "You will instruct her on exercises to tone
up her body before she leaves."  I completed my circle, and
was once again facing Mr. and Mrs. Hoover and their son,
Jeremy.

"From now on," Mr. Hoover informed me, "everything you do
will be for the purpose of making yourself more enjoyable
for our use.  We will instruct you when and how much to
exercise.  We will tell you what, and how much to eat."  Mr.
Hoover held up his hand to silence me when I started to
speak.

"Lay done on your back on the coffee table," Mr. Hoover
instructed.  Now I knew why all the books and the candy dish
were missing from there usual places on the table in front
of the couch.  I sat on the table, then swiveled around and
lay down on my back.  With my head right at the edge on one
end, the table was just long enough to reach to my knees,
which were bent with my feet on the floor.  Mr. and Mrs.
Hoover, and Jeremy, all three leaned forward in
anticipation.  Jeremy had abandoned his mother's nipples
and clutched his crotch with both hands.

"Lift your knees, and spread your legs wide."  It was the
hardest thing I'd ever had to do.  I'd laid on the couch
with my legs spread wide one week before while Jeremy
examined my pussy in great detail, but it was different this
time.  I was the only one naked and Mr. Mrs. Hoover were
my parent's age.  As hard as it was, it was even more
exciting, I'd never experienced this kind of thrill before.

"Look at how wet the slut's cunt is," Mrs. Hoover sneered,
"the whore can't wait to get your cock inside her."  I was
breathing heavy, and I felt warm all over.  I wanted to be
touched, or to touch myself so bad I could hardly stand it.
Mr. Hoover was sitting down at the end of the table, staring
directly between my legs at my exposed pussy.  I could
almost feel his gaze on my crotch like a physical caress.

"Use your fingers and open yourself for us."  Mr. Hoover
instructed.  Placing my hands, palm down, on my inner thighs,
one on each side of my wet pussy, I used my thumbs to pull
my lips apart.

"Listen to the slut moan," Mrs. Hoover said derisively.
Until she spoke, I had not even been aware that I was
moaning.

"You like to touch yourself, don't you?"  Mr. Hoover asked
leaning closer to look at my cunt.  "I can tell you're the
type that loves to masturbate, aren't you?"  My only answer
was an even louder moan, and an obscene movement of my hips.

"Do you ever go a day without masturbating?"  Mr. Hoover
asked.

"No," I answered with a chocked voice and another
involuntary obscene hip thrust.

"Masturbate for us know."

"Oh god," I moaned deeply as I began to move my fingertips
of my right hand over my swollen, sensitive clitoris.  I
didn't have my hairbrush, but I'd become used to being
penetrated while I masturbated so I used the fingers of my
left hand for that purpose.  I leaned my head back, closed
my eyes, and rocked my pelvis and my legs in gentle fucking
motions as I worked my fingertips over my clitoris and my
finger in and out of my cunt.  I was quickly lost in the
physical feelings, and the excitement of putting on a show
for the Hoover family.  I became lost in my own sexual
excitement, and have no idea how long I worked my pussy and
clitoris with my fingers.  I had one orgasm with my eyes
still closed, but kept going because Mr. Hoover had not said
to quit.  The lubricating secretions from my cunt had flowed
downward coating my ass and creating a wet, slippery puddle
on the table under my butt.  As my second orgasm approached,
I opened my eyes and looked around.  Jeremy was naked and
standing next to the table, almost touching my arm while
he stroked his hard little boy cock so fast his hand was
almost a blur.  Mrs. Hoover had leaned back, with her butt
almost hanging off the edge of the couch.  Her legs were
spread wide and she was working her cunt and clit with both
hands, much the same as I was.  Mr. Hoover was still sitting
forward in his chair, looking straight between my quivering
legs at my wet, coated fingers fucking in and out of my cunt.
As he watched, his right hand moved slowly up and down over
the bulge in the front of his trouser.  The sight of the
three members of the Hoover family masturbating along with
me put me over the top.  Since all my masturbating up to
that point had been done at home, usually with my parents
nearby, I had always restrained myself, not allowing myself
to verbalize the intense pleasures my body experienced.
This night was different.

"Oh god," I wailed, not able to contain the intense erotic
feelings.  I pumped my hips in frantic fucking motions and
plunged a second, then a third finger into my desperately
needy cunt while I rubbed and tugged on my clitoris with
a force I'd never used before.

"Look at the whore cum," I was barely aware of Mrs. Hoover's
words, her voice was saturated with her own sexual lust.
I groaned even louder as I watched Mrs. Hoover's hips thrust
her cunt up and down in the same fucking motions mine was
moving.

"Look at that, Jeremy," Mr. Hoover's voice seemed far away,
almost from another world, "our two sluts are cuming at the
same time.

"Oh God Yes," I screamed as the world spun around me.  My
eyelids fluttered and everything went dark.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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