Babysitting The Anderson Boy
by Tim Thomasson
timthommass@yahoo.com

copyright 2007 by Tim Thomasson, all rights reserved 

* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY.  It contains
explicit  depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If
you are not of  a legal age in your locality to view such
material or if such  material does not appeal to you, do not
read further, and do not save this story.
* * * * *


Dear Sirs:

Previously we had Josh write you, explaining the changes in
Huntsville since the introduction of the Nudie Juvie
program. This time the town's elders have requested that
Lyle send you the enclosed letter below. One that details a
weekend of two of our young men. One who was in the program,
the other who was not. Seems an ideal punishment for Lyle,
who dislikes English as a subject, as well as serves as
continuous proof that indeed, we the adult citizens of
Huntsville, have found your program to be a success beyond
our wildest dreams.

Sincerely,

Gerald McMichaels
City Council Chairman

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

I have been told that I have to write this. The alternative
is to be re-entered into the program and no way I want that
to happen ever again. Like no way! I have also been told
that I am to try and to write this to the best of my
ability, but that you all have been forewarned that English
is not my favorite subject. That's cool I guess. I mean it
could be worse. At least I am not being asked to write about
my turn in the program!

I also need to explain, before hand, the single most
important rule as it pertains to the Nudie-Juvie program, at
least here in Huntsville, and that is there are no longer
any rules. Period. That's right. No rules. You are enrolled
into the program you are the complete mercy of whomever has
been granted control of you.

Ok, that said, here is my story.

My Weekend of Babysitting Paul:

By Lyle Chambers.

Now I may not be so good in school, I am ok but no brain,
but I am pretty respectful and trustworthy for my age, 15.
Being that is the way my parents have raised me. Even before
the Nudie Juvie program came into being I was always
considered a "good kid" which I am finding out is a lot
better than being one of the bad ones!

My story begins on a Friday afternoon. I was home from
school and changing out of my uniform (Yeah. We now have
these dumb uniforms.) and into my oldest clothes to go and
play some ball. Anyway I hear my dad calling my name in that
tone that says get here now, and that also scares me. All
too often that means I am in trouble. 

All but running downstairs I get to the front room and go,
"Yes Sir?" Only he doesn't seem mad at all, just in one of
those dad moods. You know, where he wants to talk to you
man-to-man, so therefore he talks deeper and slower. My dad
is asking me what my plans are for the weekend. Even though
he already knows the answer I tell him, "None sir. Why." He
wanted to know if I would be free to babysit this weekend.
Seems someone has a boy who is on the short leash (Parent
talk for in the program.) only they were scheduled to go out
of town and need a babysitter for their boy. Would I be
available. You know I said yes! Money and freedom. No way I
could say no.

My dad nodded at me and told me fine. He would call them
back and inform them that I was available and would be over
at 7 o'clock sharp. That was my cue that I had been
dismissed. Like I said I may not be so book smart, but I do
know how, usually, to behave around the towns adults.
Especially my own dad.

Supper is served promptly at five at our house and is aways
the formal meal of the day. The one where we kids, my
brother and sister and myself, are expected to show our
manners. Like standing by our chairs and waiting until the
adults have been seated before sitting down ourselves. Also
at supper we do not talk talk unless spoken to, and even
then it is with a "Yes sir" or No Ma'am" when we do reply. 

That meant that even though in an hour I was to go on my
babysitting job, for an entire weekend no less, I still had
no idea who I was to be sitting. Nor did I have anyway of
asking. My dad had to know I was dying of curiosity. Maybe
that's why he was dragging it out. I had to wait until the
supper dishes were cleared from the table, again our job,
before my dad spoke to me. Telling me I was to babysit the
Anderson boy. Now there are several Anderson families here
in town, so like a dummy I had this 'huh' look on my face
when asking my dad, "Who?"

Sighing like he couldn't believe he had raised me my dad
said, real slow like, "The Anderson boy. You know Paul."
Dang. If I looked like an idiot before, think of what I must
have looked like now. I mean sure, I knew Paul. He goes to
my school, if in grade below me. I was thinking to myself,
"No way man! This changes everything!" See in my mind I was
to babysitting some kid, you know like ten or something and
had, in my mind, made plans to spank him as soon as
possible, to lay down the rules, then spend rest of the
weekend being a bum. This changed everything. Totally.

Paul is very cute, the hottie of the eight grade and beyond.
I mean he is almost as tall as me, yet thin. Not skinny, but
not enough weight to be called lean either. However he does
have a face to die for, especially if you are a girl. Green
eyes that light up a room and a face that is still all boy,
even with that first trace of man, with a smile that makes
you smile in return, even if you don't want to. Not to
mention he has a whole lot of attitude. Not a punk, more
what my parents call a character, in this voice that is both
good and bad. Which come to think of it, pretty well sums
Paul up. I was stunned. I was also fighting to my hold my
grin in. I mean babysitting some little kid was one thing.
Babysitting the town cutie, this was a dream come true.

My dad can be very cool sometimes. As long as he isn't mad
at you. Not only did he offer to give me a ride to the
Anderson's, on the way over he gave me a second overnight
bag. As I opened it he just reached over and gripped my
shoulder. Saying nothing, just nodding at the look on my
face. A look of wonderment that kept spreading. I mean I
have heard that old saying about having a trick or two up
ones sleeve, but until that moment I never knew what was
meant by these sayings. Did I tell you my dad can be, when
he wants to be, way cool! Like tonight when he pulled in to
fill up. Getting out of the car he hands me his pocket full
of change, saying, "Seems you have time to make a phone call
or two." Then leaves me standing there, frantically dialing,
as he goes inside to pay.

It is Paul's dad, Mr. Anderson, who answers my knock. My
first impression is that Paul sure looks like his dad. Mr.
Anderson maybe old, why I betcha he's fouty, yet if not for
the crows feet around his eyes he would look twenty years
younger and be way cute. As it is his voice is masculine
without being deep. His hand shake firm without trying to
overpower me. I like him right off.

Like him even more when we get to the front room. Paul is
just standing there and even with this stricken look on his
face, he is just too cute for words. Even in just his socks
Paul is tall for his age. He is wearing a over sized T-shirt
that somehow manages to accent his frame, the shoulders he
hasn't grown into yet, while at the same time the shirt
threatens to engulf him. Paul also has on jeans that I
wouldn't dare to wear. Baggy saggers that are half way down
his hips. Sagging enough to showing off his boxers, baggy
enough to all but cover his feet. Paul's full mouth is
pulled down into a frown and while he doesn't speak to me he
gives me a hard look, as if to warn me away. All I can think
is, "Who is he trying to kid?" Then made a dark promise to
myself, in the form of a cruel smirk, a smirk that I
directed at Paul.

Mr. Anderson may have a young face and stuff, but he is a
dad. That became crystal clear the moment he started
talking. His voice, it suddenly got deep and had this tone
that made me instantly somber. A voice that had Paul shaking
and looking at the floor. Mr. Anderson was going off, in
typical dad fashion. Saying what we have all heard time and
time again. You know, like "How many times have I told
you..." or, "Did I or did I not warn you that the next time
you..." or, "No way some 13 year old boy of mine is going
to..." No offense, but I was kind of tuning him out. I mean
I hear enough of that from my own dad. Or was until I caught
the words that made my heart go zing.

Words that went something like this, "Not only is Lyle going
to be babysitting you this weekend, it is Lyle that is going
to decide how long you are in the program!" Those words had
both of us staring at Mr. Anderson. Stares that forced him
to continue, to explain, by harshly telling Paul, "That's
right. I hear one just one negative report on you boy, just
one, and I will enroll you for an entire month!" I think,
nah, I know both of our mouths dropped. If I was smirking at
Paul before, well I was now grinning at him like the town
fool. I mean I knew what he had planned. That even in the
program, with no dad around, he was going to be hell to
babysit. Only now. Now I had the kind of authority and power
that he didn't dare disobey me. 

With this gruff bark in his voice and a sweep of his hand
towards his son, Mr. Anderson told me, "He's all yours!"
then seemingly faded into the background. It was if having
said his piece, and in doing so having laid down the law, he
was free to go. Paul on the other hand was giving me this
strangest of looks, until I figured it out. Paul was, in
effect, doing what he does best. The dude was posing. Posing
with his full mouth drawn into a pout. As if saying, "Look
at me. I am so cute you will become weak in the knees and
bend to my every desire. Anything to make me smile." It was
all I could do to keep a straight face.

Walking over to Paul the first thing I did was to run my
fingers through his hair. Kind of giving his head a tussle,
then in this fake voice talked down to him by saying, "You
look like such a little boy when you do that. Then again,
you are a little boy, are you not?" Poor Paul, he didn't
know what to say, until I snapped, "You were asked a
question boy. And when I ask you a question, you had damned
well better answer it!" Looking all confused Paul stammered
out, "Umm...yeah...I am a boy." 

My cue to have some fun. Snarling back, as if way mad, as if
Paul had offended me, I said, "A what Paul? Not a boy, but a
little boy. Yes?" The dude was all but gulping for air and
his mouth made the cutest little twitches, but damned if he
didn't answer correctly. Looking very sheepish, that was
Paul while softly replying, "Yes. I am a little boy." He was
sure starting to act like one, which was after all, the
idea. Which led to my next idea, one I was ready to act upon
as soon as he was taught to address me properly. 

It is so awesome to hear someone referring to you as sir.
Even more amazing is how it makes you feel inside when they
are doing so, especially when against their will. Factor
into that a guy who is not even two years younger than
yourself and well, makes you feel so good that you have them
refer to you as such, sir, like fifteen or twenty times in a
row. Until you know they have it down pat. Until your smile
is as broad as their frown. You know what else I was
thinking. That the mere of act of calling one sir separates
the two people. No wonder my dad expects to be called sir.
It clearly states that one is in charge, and that the other
answers to him. It was time to test my theory.

Walking around Paul in a slow circle I just shook my head
and muttered under my breath, watching as he jumped back and
forth, trying to keep me in sight. Finally I stopped in
front of him and with a slow, sad shake of my head
mournfully stated, "Oh no. This won't do at all. Not at
all." Paul didn't know what to do. I mean how could he, he
had no idea what I was talking about. Of course that just
made it all the more exciting when I said, "Paul. What you
are wearing? This is not how little boys will dress when I
am in charge. Not all. Let's get these clothes off right
this minute!" The way his eyes opened, was like they had
been pried open with toothpicks. I mean he wasn't even
blinking. Neither was he speaking for that matter. Was like
he was frozen in place. Put me in kind of a no man's land. I
mean if I screamed at him, it made me sound weak. Yet if he
didn't obey, I would appear weak. Lucky for me, I came up
with the perfect solution. I would undress Paul myself.

Hands on Paul's shirt I pulled him to me until we were all
touching noses. Then whispered to him under my breath.
Trying to sound both dangerous and mean at the same time.
Telling him that little boys who don't obey when given a
direct order get their bottoms bared, and are then soundly
spanked. Just like he is about to be. Talk about a bugged
eyed reaction. Then it hit me. See what I mean about being
not so smart sometimes. I was to be Paul's first. Paul had
never been in the program before! I just now put it
together. That is why he is so stunned. Before tonight, Paul
had always been the hunter. Tonight, for the first time,
Paul is the prey.

Knowing that I can't tell you who was shaking more, Paul in
fear or me in desire. What I can tell you is that once I got
hold of the bottom of his T-shirt it took me three tries,
even as big as it was on him, to get it over his head.
Taking my time I folded Paul's shirt for him. I needed that
time. I was staring at all that pinkish white skin that
glowed, as if he had applied moisturizer just minutes
before. I was taking note of the absence of hair. I mean I
knew he was only 13 still I expected, I guess because of his
height, to see some hair under his pits, but there was none. 

That and I was taken back by the way his body was already
defined. Give Paul a couple of years and some meat on his
bones and he is going to have a body worthy of his face.

Grabbing Paul by his waistband I brought him in close to me
with a harsh jerk. I could feel my face muscles tighten as I
fought to stay in control, I could even hear the want in my
breath as I rasped out, "Soon. Very soon...that cute little
ass of yours is going to be mine." What a feeling that is,
to have a dude trembling under your touch. Shaking from the
inside out, reacting to me as I sneered out, "Can't you
already feel yourself going over my knee? Can't you just
hear your tiny voice as you beg with me not to spank you?"
Then paused before I half laughed, half barked out, "I can!"
Paul was losing his fight for control, gasping in unspoken
fear. Then let out this really small small voice
uttered,"Please." as slowly, one by one I undid the snaps of
his jeans until with a single push from me, they fell off
his hips and into a pile around his ankles. Releasing him
from my hold I found my manly voice and told him to step out
of them and hand them to me.  

Paul's legs were hairless, that I expected. What I hadn't
expected was how boyish he would truly appear once down to
his boxers. I mean all that luscious and hairless skin. His
little boy thinness, even with his definition, combined with
knees that were almost knobby and knocking, and the dude
looked younger than 13. Much younger when at my order, as I
was folding his jeans, I told him to take his socks off. For
a moment there I was wondering if he remembered how. Sorta
funny looking Paul was, hopping on one foot and then the
other, so nervous I wouldn't have been surprised had he
fallen over, flat on his face. Definitely funny looking once
down to his boxers. They looked so big on him it was as if
he had found some of his dad's to wear. And for all I know,
maybe he had.

As much fun as it was teasing Paul, I knew it was the time
to set the ground rules. Locking my eyes with his I spoke
slowly, like a teacher explaining an old subject one more
time. Taking the time to make one point clear, then waiting
until I got the humble yes sir before moving on to the next.
I started slowly, telling Paul that he had seen enough of
his friends in the Nudie-Juvie program to know how it works,
therefore from this moment on the second I tell him to do
something, no matter what, I expect instant obedience or
else he will be punished. He nodded and said, "Yes sir."
Next I went on to explain that I am a huge believer in my
dad's philosophy, that a spanked boy is a boy who behaves.
He bit down on his lower lip at that, then nodded and said,
"Yes sir, I understand." Of course I had to tell him that
since he was being babysat, well, that alone makes him a
boy, and that is exactly how he will be treated this
weekend. Paul hated that, or so said his look, even if he
did answer with a quiet, "Yes sir."

Man oh man. How I wish I could truly explain what happened
next.The way Paul's face started to fall, piece by piece,
like a cartoon character cracking apart. First his eyes
popped wider than I though humanly possible. Next his bottom
lip curled down, then dropped, as his top lip went up,
leaving his mouth wide open, like a frog looking to catch
flies. Then his left cheek started to twitch and this funny
noise started coming him. It took me a moment to catch on,
but finally I did. I turned around.

His sister, Kathy, was standing in the doorway, staring on
with this big old grin. I mean it was wide and it was
wicked. Karen is cute also. Maybe not as cute for a girl as
her brother is for a guy, but then I am not even sure if
that is possible. All I know is that she is my age, and in
my grade, and just looking at her can get me all tongue
tied. Like it did then. I just looked at her and was
probably staring like some idiot. Thank goodness she spoke
first. To me she sounded as good as she looked and it took
me a second to comprehend that she had asked me a question,
and an even longer second to understand what she had asked
me.

She had asked me permission to enter the room. Of  course I
told her to come on in and for the moment I forgot all about
Paul, or did until she so sweetly asked me what was going
on. Shaking my head as if to say sorry, please let me
explain, I told her that I was to be Paul's babysitter for
the weekend while her parents and her went out of town.
Kathy just smiled softly, then raised a single eyebrow at me
before pointedly staring at her brother with a gleam in her
eye. Not to mention a growing smirk on her face. A smirk
that was causing Paul to swing his head from side to side as
if to say, no, a thousand times no.

Kathy was enthralled with Paul's reactions as I explained
that he had disobeyed me, and therefore was about to be
spanked. Her grin growing positively evil the more terrified
Paul became. One moment he was frozen in place, the next all
but dancing a jig as I grew more vocal, and vivid in my
explanations, much to Kathy's delight. As for me, I was in
some kind of zone. I mean this was every guys wet dream come
true. Or at least it was mine. A cute girl who was playing
up to me like I was a king or something, and a even cuter
guy who knew I was his king and as such, my word was his
law.

Don't think I am a total fool, cause I'm not. I knew Kathy
was playing me, but dang if I could help my reactions. I was
like putty in her hands. Besides, Paul was in the program
and I was his babysitter so this was all above board. Just
added to the drama as far as I was concerned. Not that I
wasn't playing a bit of a game myself. Such as when the room
went silent and I noticed Paul and Kathy staring at one
another in a way that left me on the outside looking in.
Feeling overlooked I broke the silence by quietly asking
Kathy if she had ever seen her brothers stuff before. Never
seen a grin quite like the one I got from Kathy, much less
heard that kind of huskiness in a girls voice as when she
told me why no, she had not.

Paul's eyes weren't wet but they sure were sad looking when
I turned to look at him. He knew, I knew, and of course
Kathy knew, I was under her spell and if Paul had held out
any hope before, no matter how faint of not being bared, it
was now gone. Even so, I had every intent of making his show
a memorable one. Anything to keep Kathy's focus as much on
me as it was her brother. With a glint in  my eye that
matched Kathy's, and in a voice that was husky, I winked at
them both then asked Kathy if she wanted to make a bet.

Leaning her head back, as if to look up at me, made her hair
fall back and frame her face. Dang she is pretty. And the
way she is cooing at me, asking me what's the bet, anything
she wants Paul to do, anything at all, all she has to do is
ask. Looking into her eyes I feel my mouth getting dry and
my thoughts are so far from pure that it is hard for me to
talk, but somehow I manage to sound normal when asking her
if she wants to bet on just how much pubic hair Paul has.

Paul is turning all sorts of red listening to his sister's
laugh, and the way I am chuckling and grinning at her
reaction. Like I had just told the best joke ever. Then he
makes the mistake of calling his sister a bitch, acting like
he is talking under his breath, yet we all know he is not. I
give him a look so hard you would think he had just insulted
my woman or something instead of his own sister, but my ugly
look sure shut him up. Turning back to Kathy I find myself
apologizing for his behavior, then decide on the bet.
"Kathy," I say, "Even though Paul is acting like such a
child I am betting he has pubic hair." Kathy finds this idea
worthy a real out and out laugh. One that leaves Paul so
crimson he looks to hot to touch. She answers that was going
to be her guess but since I took it first, she will bet he
has none. Then makes a comment so cold only a girl would
utter it. Speaking so slowly that even Paul looks at her as
we wait for the punch line, before saying, "Ok. I not only
bet that he has no hair at all, none at all...but that his
dick is as small as a little boys!" Paul looked like he been
punched.

You could tell Kathy was eating this all up. There was some
real heat in the, "So what do I win if I am right?" she
drawled out. Heat and hope. By accident we locked eyes and I
felt burnt. She was on fire on the inside and the way I was
playing her, and Paul, she was as zoned in as I. At that
moment I knew she was as turned on as I was. That she was as
wet down below as I was hard. I knew then, by this look she
was giving me, that if it couldn't have been her who was
babysitting Paul, she was ecstatic I had been chosen. If
love is as electric as what was passing between us, no
wonder wars have been started over it. And people killed for
it!

Nodding at Kathy I took up a spot next to Paul and then with
my softest touch started rubbing my hands, more my
fingertips at first, across his chest. Feeling the silky
touch of skin as I murmured into his ear, "Oh yeah. You
could be right. As soft as this skin feels. No way this boy
has hit puberty yet." Paul jumped at that. Just as I jumped
when without warning Kathy placed her palm over my hand,
spreading her fingers inbetween mine, as together, as one,
we stroked Paul's soft flesh. Her eyes flashing a heat that
was palatable to me. Paul made small sounds of protest.
Sounds that just increased the tension between me and Kathy.
I don't think it was my imagination that she was panting,
when she again asked, "So what do I win if I am right?"

I have no idea where my answer came from but I said, "Here's
the deal. Paul has pubic hair, I get to spank him. He
doesn't. You do." Kathy's lips parted in agreement, before
this new look came to her eyes. First she wetted her lips,
slowly, like some girls do on dirty magazine covers, then
softly cooed, "What? Being called a bitch doesn't give me
that right to begin with?" She had a point, but not one I
was willing to give into, yet, I was under her spell, but
not to the point of giving up control, so I I responded,
saying, "Oh, I agree. Paul must pay for that rudeness. This
isn't a question of if you will punish him for that. Just
when."

Paul was now crying, in protest. Not wet tears or anything,
more in these weird sounds he was making and the way his
body was all but caving inward. His arms all but crossed, as
if he was trying to hug himself, and his knees were so tight
against one another they looked locked together. Placing my
hand under his chin I raised his head until it was even with
me and Kathy and said, "You understand what I just said
Paul? Your sister will punish you for your foul mouth. Is
not a matter of if, but when!" I knew for sure, at that
moment, that Paul knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he was in
the program. What a humble "Yes sir." it was he uttered. I
shuddered at the sound.

It was time to see who won the bet. Time to take Paul's
boxers off. Yet as I placed my hands on  Paul's waist, even
as I was letting the harsh idle of his body talk to me,
Kathy gave me this look that all but took me to my toes.
Gazing into her eyes, I softly said, "Yes?" And listened in
admiration at her boldness as she told her brother, "Just so
you know Paul." then paused for dramatic effect, before
snickering "When it is my turn to punish you? I am first
going to lead you to the sink and wash your mouth out with
soap! Then I am going to put you over my knee and spank you,
just like mommy does!" You could have heard a pin drop. If
there was any doubt in my mind that I was in love with her,
it left at that moment. This was my kind of woman.

No way Paul could have opened his eyes any wider than what
they already were but that didn't keep him from giving me
this quizzical look, as if asking me to say no way. As if
under some foolish delusion that I would over rule his
sister. I just smiled so broadly that all my teeth shown.
Paul just let out this giant "Urp" and snapped his mouth
shut so hard you could hear his teeth mashing together. Like
he could already taste the soap. That or he was keeping from
screaming in protest. Either way, his reaction just added to
the flow of emotions that were passing between me and Kathy.

I was so lost in Kathy's look that it took me a moment to
realize that my hand had dropped and was now resting upon
Paul's stuff. With a quick grin I gave him just enough of a
squeeze to bring him back to the here and now before rubbing
my hands across the fabric of his boxers, one time for a
feel, before looking at Kathy and sticking my tongue out in
a mock nah-nah, telling her all happy like, "Hey? I think I
am going to win!" Kathy let out a fake squeal of "No way!"
before sighing like she was pouting and stating, "Well. I am
not surprised. Still, the way he carries on when mommy or
daddy spank him, I can't believe any of him is man!" We both
had to grin at Paul's expression. Just as we both grinned
when I asked how often he was spanked. Just as we laughed
together when Kathy proclaimed, "Not enough enough!" Then
smirked as one, at Paul, as she clued me in to the fact that
about every other week he goes upstairs to have a little
'talk' with their mom or dad.

Placing my hands on the inside part of Paul's elastic I got
in his face and in this very strange and excited and happy
voice asked him if he was ready to show us what he had.
Something inside of him must have been stretched to the
limit because all of a sudden he got loud and vocal, half
proclaiming, half begging that I, that we, leave him alone.
I did not care for that outburst, not at all, and saw red.
My voice must have been a strangled wire of sound as all I
said was, "Paul." and he went quiet. It was too late. I was
mad. Breathing in deeply, like I was fighting for control, I
spoke without thinking, saying, "Paul. You are now getting
your mouth washed out before you get spanked, regardless of
who wins. Understand me?" Boy oh boy did he look small all
of a sudden. And in this squeak of a voice tried to
backtrack by saying he was sorry. I just ignored him.

Catching Kathy's eye I waited until I again felt that
special connection we had, and with that I started to tug at
Paul's boxers. Teasing him, and us, by lowering them just a
fraction here, maybe a quarter of an inch there. The whole
time feasting on the waves of emotions that were swirling
off of Paul. I could feel the corners of my mouth stretching
to their limit. Why in a moment, my grin might be as big as
Kathy's. Although no way my mouth could stretch as far apart
as Paul's was. Talk about a frown. Even the sad clowns at
fairs don't have frowns this big. I was loving it. I don't
ever recall being this happy, this excited, this turned on.
Ever.

The desire on Kathy's face was making my head swirl. I could
hold out no longer, no matter how great my pleasure, no
matter how dramatic the moment. No matter how fantastic is
was to watch Paul rock and cringe in shameful anticipation,
it was time for the bet to be called. Time for that final
tug. What a moment that was too. We were all holding our
breath and you could this giant woosh of a sound as we all
exhaled in time with the fall of Paul's boxers. Better yet,
I had won! Paul had hair, lots of it actually, butterscotch
blond in coloring and very soft looking. Best of all was his
dick. It was long, really long for his age, if sorta thin.
We all just stared at Paul's dick, then I saw the look Kathy
was giving me, and my world rocked. 

If not panting, it was hard to catch my breath, but once I
did I ordered Paul to step out of his boxers, which he did.
Next I picked up all his clothing and then handed them to
Kathy, sayiing, "Would you put these in the hamper for me.
Your brother won't be needing these the rest of night." I
thought Kathy might skip she was so happy, and did once I
added, "And after that, meet me in the kitchen. Someone
needs their mouth washed out." I think Paul groaned, am not
sure as Kathy's laugh was the music I was listening to.
Feeling ten feet tall I just grabbed Paul by the ear and in
a mean voice said, "Come with me."

Mrs. Anderson was in the kitchen when we walked in and her
smile was replaced by confusion when seeing me holding Paul
by the ear, and Paul all naked. I explained to her about
Paul's actions, then in a low voice told her about Paul
calling his sister a bitch. Her expression grew dark and she
started to tell Paul and thing or two, then stopped and
looked at me as if saying ok, your in charge, what are you
going to do about it. Smiling I told her, "What else can I
do? Obviously, someone needs their mouth washed out!" Paul's
mom almost beamed at me. Then took a few steps away from the
sink. 

Turning the water on I waited until it was to hot to the
touch, then plugged up the sink and added just a drop of
dishwashing liquid, before placing a bar of soap into the
mixture and waiting for the bar to soften into a warm mush.
During that time Kathy had come in and was grinning at her
brother then giving her mom these sad looks that all but
asked, can you believe what Paul said to me. Oh she is good.
Damn good. As we waited I just leaned against the counter
and watched and listened as Paul's mom and Kathy talked back
and forth, mainly about how Paul needed, obviously, more
structure and watching and discipline. Then glowed as Kathy
pipped up, saying that I seemed the perfect man for the job.
Then almost blushed when her mom agreed, if not almost
dancing when Mrs. Anderson stated, quite strongly, that from
now on when she need a babysitter for Paul, which is going
to be everytime they left the the house, she is calling me
to babysit.

Pretending I didn't hear them, yet feeling all manly, I
sterny told Paul it was time. Boy he sure was nervous when
walking to me and his eyes were big, scared and begging at
the same time. I grinned, then told him he had asked for
this, then told him to open his mouth, wide. Took him a
couple of tries before he opened wide enough to suit me.
Once he did, I took the now soft bar of soap and inserted it
into his mouth. As I suspected he started to gag and act
like he wanted to get away. I was ready though, I grabbed
his arm and held him in place and asked him, "Paul. Aren't
you in enough trouble already?" That question caused his
eyes to go moist, but he nodded his head and did his best to
stand still. I started very slowly, all but laying the wet
soap on his tongue and letting it sit there, knowing this
gives the soap time to sink into the skin, and once that
happens, getting the taste out is next to impossible. Next I
started to move it back and forth, then in and out, across
his tongue. Adding a new layer atop the old, yet doing so
slowly enough the old was drying by the time I came back. No
easy trick given the way Paul was bouncing up and down. A
natural enough reaction to a mouth full of soap.

Mouth washing is a messy job, Paul was gagging and trying to
spit the times I rested my hand. After layering his tongue
into a thick white paste, I went to work on his gums. Having
him open his lips so wide that he looked like a smiling
monkey. After that I had Paul lift his tongue and really
worked over that soft spot. I knew from experience that
there is no harder place to get rid of the soap from. Next I
had Paul place the bar between his teeth, to give me a
break, and used this time to tell him off, but good. What a
sight. Naked and shaking, white foam drolling from his mouth
and down his chin, falling in giant blotches onto his chest,
and lower. No wonder he was shuddering. Seeing that the bar
was almost gone I told Paul to finish the bar off by chewing
it. There was a grimace that twisted his face and the foam
was working overtime by the time he finally gasped out, very
hoarsly, "I think it is all gone...sir." 

I think his mom forgot I was in charge, or did at first, as
before I could react she told him to open up and prove it.
Sure enough, as far as we could tell, it was gone. I mean
Paul's mouth was so bubbly and white, no way I could tell
for sure with one glance. Still, it was obvious he had
eatten a lot of soap. Taking over I asked Paul if he thought
he was going to be using foul language anytime soon, much
less to his sister. If he could have, he would have barked
out a no, as it was, he was very clear when saying no way.
In fact he was even nodding a lot so that there was no
chance of us misunderstanding him. 

After giving the soap in his mouth a few minutes to dry, I
told Paul he could have one glass of water, no more, and
rinse out what soap he could, the rest could stay there as a
reminder. I was fair about it though, I took the biggest
glass I could find and told Paul to use it slowly, works
better that way. He did the first try, the second try he
used the whole glass, meaning there was still a lot of soap
in his mouth, if unseen. As I said, I know this from
experience, my mom uses soap all the time. Yuck.

Looking at Paul it finally dawned on me why Kathy was so
amused. All the white slotches on Paul looked like giant cum
spots. Like he had just shot the mother of all loads. I too
had to laugh, then told Kathy and her mom, "Come on. This is
how Paul looks every night once the lights are off." I
couldn't believe it, Paul's mom, unbeknownst to him, or even
Kathy for that matter, had just flashed a dark, even deadly
look at him. I knew what to do. Looking at Paul I made my
tone as eerie as possible and told him, "Paul. Answer me. Do
you or do you not jerk off every night?" This question
seemed to embarrass him more than being naked in front of
his own mom and sister, or even having someone this close to
his own age wash his mouth out. That is how red he turned.
And how soft his cracked reply of, "Yes. Every night." was.
His mom's look was, well, frightening. Even so, her tone was
quiet when she said, "Huh. I didn't know that." Somehow
though, Paul caught her meaning and appeared to blush an
even darker shade. 

Looking at the clock, Mrs. Anderson stated, "Well Kathy,
lets be glad Lyle is here this weekend, as it is, it is
almost time for us to go." Something in the way Kathy looked
tugged at my heart strings and I just knew now was my chance
to seal the deal with her. So taking a calculated risk I
asked Mrs. Anderson in my most measured voice if she had
just a few extra minutes. Please? I guess my pitch was that
perfect blend of asking while remaining humble as she just
nodded her head and said, "I guess a few minutes either way
won't make a difference." Quickly I grabbed Kathy's arm and
took her to the side and huddled with her. The conversation
lasted less than a minute but if her mom hadn't been there,
I think Kathy would have kissed me. With tongue. If she had,
I would have swooned.

"Mrs. Anderson," I calmly said, "I promised Kathy one Nudie
Juvie treat before she left, for the way Paul acted earlier.
With your permission, may I punish Paul now, before you
leave?" She took a second and I am not sure what convienced
her to say yes, the look of hope on Kathy's face, or the, or
so I hoped, strong look of determination on my face. Maybe
both as she sounded almost relaxed when agreeing. 

No way it was a smile when I looked at Paul, but it felt
like my mouth was streched out far enough I could call it
that. "Paul." and how in control I sounded, "You are a mess.
And need to be cleaned up. But I see no reason to wash all
that white off of you until you have jerked off. That way, I
only have to clean you up once." Paul opened his mouth, then
closed it, two or three times in a row without getting a
word out. He was that stunned. For that matter, no one else
was saying a word either. Both women just looked at me, then
Paul, as if waiting. And both had smiles on their faces, if
very different kind of smiles. No way I was going to look
weak in front of these women, so in a voice that dared I
told Paul, "You have two choices as I see it. You can jerk
yourself off, starting now, or I can have Kathy do it for
you. Your choice." No wonder Paul looked stricken, talk
about a lose-lose situation. Next I whispered so that only
he could hear me, "Make your choice and make it now Paul, or
tomorrow, I will have you jerking off in the middle of the
mall." And my look was a promise, not a threat.

Paul hiccuped a cry, then closed his eyes and left his right
hand fall down. Gently, like he was searching in the dark,
he let his hand explore until he felt his dick. Then flicked
his tip, once, with his index finger, then circled himself
with a balled fist. I could hear the sharp intake of breath
in the room, harshly from Paul, then softly in my ear, it
was Kathy. Her breath felt like a warm caress running into
my private thoughts. I had to take a step away, least my
knees buckle and fold. Paul held still for a moment, then
licked his lips and with a gentle wisp of a movement made
his first move, a small up, then down stroke. Looking at
Mrs. Anderson I was struck by a novel idea, and one that
seemed perfect for her mood, and the moment. Waiting until
Paul had lifted his hand up, just this much, I started to
speaking very softly, as if I were background to a show.
Focusing in on his mom in particular I muttered, "Notice how
slowly Paul is jerking off?" No reason to wait for a reply,
I knew had their attention, well all off it that wasn't on
Paul. "That is because he sleeps in the room next to you,
and doesn't want you to know what is happening while you
think he is sleeping." That comment got Mrs. Anderson's
attention. She looked at me, nodded, then glared at Paul.

Two more strokes, small but noticable, and we all could see
the beginning of a rise. A few more and Paul's dick was
taking shape. Still small, yet no longer flacid. "If you
will notice," I all but intoned, "Paul now wants to start
stroking faster, but he has learned the slower he goes, the
less sound he will make. That way, no one knows." Oh yes, I
had Mrs. Anderson's attention. The quiet in the room was
palable, just as the constant motion of Paul's hand was
hypnotizing. A few more strokes and Paul had size and shape.
Not hard, but a fully formed dick was now being stroked. "If
you will," I cooed quietly, "notice how Paul is now holding
his lips together. That is to keep him from making any
sounds that might alert everyone." I doubt Mrs. Anderson
could look more upset. The idea that this was occuring in
her house, right next to her room, by her own son no less,
seemed to be making her angry. Very angry. 

Paul's hand was now moving to a beat only he could hear. Not
fast, but not slow either. And his dick was hard, erect, and
long, a sight to see up against his thin frame. It was also
filling out. I mean one look at him at you knew he was going
to have some surprising length, but who knew he would fill
out so much as he stroked. His dick now looked huge compared
to the rest of him. It was also turning color, red, bright
red, shined at the top. A few more strokes and I noticed his
color turning to a purple shade, and told the women, "Look
at the way he is now biting down. Tell me that hasn't been
learned from having a room so close to his parents." Mrs.
Anderson was shaking her head. Kathy however, was giving me
the eye, and winking. 

Holding my finger to my mouth, asking for total silence, I
leaned forward and watched as Kathy did also. His mom
though, took a silent step closer. In the silence we could
hear small pants, soft ragged breaths, escaping Paul. "Those
breaths are a sign ladies. A sign that Paul is getting close
to cumming. A sign that says he has learned to give himself
pleasure, while hiding this fact." Paul shuddered, though if
from self pleasure or in protest to my words, only he knew.
I griined, the in my lowest voice said, "Ladies. Notice the
sheen on the top of Paul's dick? That is a sure sign you
might want to take a step back." There was a soft grrr of
protest from Paul, but at his age, and in his condition, no
way he could stop. 

I laughed silently, then whispered to the women, "Look at
him. Tell me if his room wasn't next to his mommies, and he
had to keep this a secret, that he wouldn't be screaming at
the top of his lungs." Paul's face was red, and his eyes had
opened, looked down, then closed again. His mouth was
streched out and while his tongue wasn't hanging out, he
sure was panting. Before I could add another comment, and I
sure was enjoying my running commentary, Paul gave a
shudder, than uttered this soft sound that was all but
frightening, then blew his load. White cum streaming into
the air, as if this was the first time he had jerked off in
a week. Reaching his hair line, the spurts of warm milky
liquid continued to fall, now onto his chest, before his
last shudder left him soaking his pubic hair. All in all,
quite an impressive show. At least from a guys point of
view.

Paul just leaned against the counter and panted and gulped
for air, his eyes still closed. His mom had an expression
that was too calm and too serene to be natural. As for
Kathy, she about gave us away as she had come up behind me
and was softly playing with my ass. Had she rubbed me any
more, I could have shown Paul what a real erection was!
Lucky for me, Kathy was no fool, and she moved away before
her mom caught on. Mrs. Anderson said not a word, not even
one when leaving the kitchen, just gave Kathy a nod that
said lets move it, and left. Kathy had no choice and with a
wry smile, she gave me this small, tender kiss, then
followed that up by running her finger across my cheek, then
ran out of the room to find her her mom. Her kiss leaving me
in another place and time, and alone with Paul.

Oh well, soon enough, unbeknownst to Paul, we would be
having company. Pretty cool. Huh?

(the end...Lyle.) 

  
BSAB_Babysitting_the_Anderson_Boy