Domming Daughter Dani – Part 9 of 51 – BABYSITTING SUZIE PART ONE

By Dutchboy

copyright: This work is released under the Creative Commons Attribution Only (CC BY) License. You can copy it, paste it, change it, try and get some other fool to pay you money for it. I don’t care. Just acknowledge my original authorship and if you change anything, be upfront about the fact that you changed it. If that ain’t a square deal, I’ll kiss your ass.

Story codes: mdom, male dominant, incest, inc, true, bdsm, some pedo, spanking, mmf and mff.

Email: mrdutchmaster@gmail.com  

-------------------------------

I woke on Christmas Day to bedlam ruckus. Mr. Wags was upset. He was a big mountain of a man and when he bellowed, there was no sleeping through it.

“Goddamn! Goddamn the luck.”

“Floyd,” Mrs. Wags countered, “It’s really not that big of a deal. She’ll be fine.”

“She’s puking! I can’t drive with her puking the whole ride up there.”

“It’s not the end of the world, Floyd.”

“I know. I know. Dammit. We’ll just have to try and get to Chicago this Easter.”

“Honey, what are you talking about? Suzie can stay home this time. Seriously, what are you freaking out for?”

“We can’t leave her here alone!”

From the couch I tried not to laugh. I was pretty sure Peg and Suzie had been left alone for many four-day stretches while Mom and Dad Wagner were on a long bender. Peggy sure didn’t do anything paternal to take care of Suzie. If ever there was a twelve-going-on-thirteen year old who was comfortable on her own for a week, it was Suzie.

“Maybe she could stay with Maxy?” Mrs. Wags said.”I’ll call Ursela.”

“On Christmas Day?”

“Uh... Hey...” Peggy interrupted. “Seriously. Is there some reason you’re pretending that Skip isn’t staying here while we’re gone?”

The loud hallway went silent.

“You think he’d mind?” Mrs. Wags whispered.

“Mom,” Peggy said, exasperated. “Skip is freeloading in your house. The least he can do is watch the Brat for a couple of days. He can check in and make sure she’s not dead between hanging out with his friends. Gawd. You guys can really bring the drama.”

Silence in the hallway again.

Mrs. Wags walked into the living room and I set up on my couch/bed. “Skip, darling?”

“Not a problem,” I said, wringing sleep from my eyes for effect. 

“Peggy will leave you the keys to her Parisienne, just in case. I’ll leave you and Suzie some cash in case she gets worse and needs to go the emergency room.”

“Wow. Is it that bad?” I asked.

“No, not bad at all. Just being a mom. Planning for the worst. You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Don’t even worry for a minute, Mrs. Wags. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Mrs. Wags smiled. The family Caddy backed out of the garage almost exactly an hour later. All that chaos transitioned into a house so quiet I could hear my pulse squish through my inner ear.

I watched some parades on the television. After a few hours, I walked down the hallway and put my ear at Suzie’s door. 

“You better open it, Skip,” she said from the other side. “How else are you going to know if I’m dead or not?”

I smiled and let myself into her room. She was on top of her sheets stretching. She was wearing an oversized yellow T-shirt with a silver iron-on decal that read “Itty Bitty Titty Committee Chairwoman.” It had been a gift from Mr. Wags the night before. He thought it was hilarious, if that tells you anything about Mr. Wags. Or perhaps it says more about how much less uptight the late 80s were when a dad could buy his own pre-teen daughter a shirt that commented on her tits and not get a visit from Child Protective Services.

“You look like you’re feelin’ better,” I said.

Suzie smiled a shit-eating grin. “I do,” she said. “I feel great!”

“Oh shit,” I gasped. “You total faker!”

“Maybe,” she giggled. 

“Why?”

“Just didn’t want to go this year.”

“You wanted to stay back so you could play wokka-chikka, wokka-chikka with your little boyfriend,” I pointed a finger at her. 

“What if I did?”

“Well then you are screwed because I’m not letting you have any guests until your mom gets back.”

“What? Why?”

“You are too young to be be messin’ around with boys.”

“Oh Skip,” Suzie laughed. “You are the biggest fucking hypocrite!”

This stung for a second. I looked at her laughing. “You may have a point there,” I said.

“What’s in it for me if I let your little friend come over and play doctor?”

“Skip,” Suzie stretched again, her T-shirt rising higher and higher on her thighs. “Hank is gone to his grandma’s too. He’s not in town.”

“Hank?” I said, feigning jealousy. “Hank? What kind of douchebag name is Hank for a middle schooler, huh?”

Suzie posed with her arms twisted over her head and her heels slightly off the sheets, her toes pointed like a centerfold. “Well... Skip, for your information... Skip, Hank isn’t a middle schooler. He’s 15.”

“Holy shit! Fifteen? What’s wrong with boyfriends your own age?”

Suzie roiled with laughter. “Jeezus you are a hypocrite! My back itches. Come here and scratch my back.” It wasn’t an unusual request. I’d scratched her back while she balanced on my knee, my hand up the back of her shirt like a ventriloquist puppet. We’d done it many times.

I sat down on the edge of her bed and she flipped over onto her stomach. I lifted her night shirt to get my fingernails to her back. I saw her skinny little bare ass uncovered. I froze. I was expecting panties. 

“Scratch!” Suzie pleaded. I pushed my hand into the back of her shirt and began tracing looping circles through her shoulder blades with whatever fingernails I had. Suzie cooed and moaned with pleasure. I let my fingernails circle lower and lower until I traced a spiral around and around on her skinny left ass cheek. Gooseflesh rippled outward up her back and down her legs. Suzie froze and stopped moaning. She pushed her face into the pillow in front of her. She went rigid as a plank. My fingernail skipped to her other ass cheek, spiraled, and began a lazy S-wave down the back of her thigh. Suzie screamed with repressed tickle delight and pulled away, flopping on her back like a fish and howling throaty laughter. 

“Gah! Skip! I can’t take it!” Her hands rubbed at her thighs, trying to sand away chicken skin with palm friction. 

With her shirt still pulled high on her midriff, her hairless little pussy mound danced in front of me. Her slit was a shadowed keyhole, a thin oval at the top dropping into a tight crease with no sign of labia sticking out. I was kind of shocked by it. It wasn’t particularly sexy to me, but it was fascinating. I’d never seen a girl pussy before. Before I could pull my eyes away from it, Suzie caught me staring.

“You wanna tickle my kitty too?” she looked me dead in the eye and smiled.

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m only licensed through Tickle Union 507 to scratch backs and the occasional little girl ass. No pussies, I’m afraid.”

“Oh come on, Skip,” Suzie grinned. “You can’t make it four whole days without sex.”

“Says who?”

“Says Peggy. And my ears. You always want it when you’re here.”

“Well, I’m flattered by the offer, Honey. Really. But you’re just a liiiiiitle too young for me.”

“At least let me suck your dick?” she pleaded. “Every guy wants his dick sucked. You always want your dick sucked.”

I was a little shocked. Mostly I assumed she was yanking my chain.

“Maybe later,” I said. “As long as you really aren’t sick, why don’t you grab a shower and get dressed. We’ll get lunch at a Denny’s if we can find one open. Then you can pick a movie and we’ll go on a date. How about that?”

“Ohhh! A date! That’s even better! Then you’ll make love to me.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” I said.