Babysitting the Harrington Boys
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:

As Josh has told you, Huntsville changed its rules to
include the 'older' children into the program.  Did that
ever cause an uproar at the High School. I mean if under 20
in this town you are considered a child, and treated
accordingly.  Considering the towns size our parents have
been quite resourceful.  They have even created a Community
College, accredited no less, that is now mandatory for all
children upon completion of High School. Meaning until
twenty, and done with your sophomore year of college, you
are forced to go to school locally and therefore treated as
a child.  Yes, that is exactly what I mean.  The same rules
apply at the Community College as are applied in High
School, or Junior High. Still, while that all sounds good
and well, the Nudie Juvie Program isn't used with near the
frequency upon the older teenagers as it's used upon the
younger children of the town, the thinking being the older
the child, the less often they should need discipline.  But
when used, does it ever make an impression. The following is
my story, or at least the prelude to the above. 

Yours, Karen Joe Danby.

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

These are the facts, my name is Karen Joe and I am fifteen
years old.  Female, cute if not cheerleader pretty, and in
the 9th grade.  I have spent time in the Nudie Juvie 
Program, but not in the past two years. I love money,  I
guess because I love to shop, but in this town you can't
even get a job selling Popsicles on a hot summers day until
you are sixteen.  Even then you are only allowed to work ten
hours a week, max.  Like what can you buy with that pitiful
sum?  However being female means I am allowed to babysit and
there are no limits on how often I can sit.  Nor on how much
I can charge. Like bingo! It is here that my story begins. 
The Salazar family is a familiar story in many ways I guess.
Both parents were raised strict and on small farms that
barely survived.  They met, fell in love and got married,
and being from old fashioned families neither family
accepted the outsider they had married. So they moved here
looking for work and a place to raise their own family.  At
first, I am told, this really raised some eyebrows as Mr.
Salazar, as his name implies, is Hispanic, and the first to
ever move into town.  However, Mr. Salazar is now a foreman
and Mrs. Salazar a secretary, so they are making it.  Making
it as well as any two people can with four boys to feed.
Boys that range in age from twelve to seventeen, but I am
jumping ahead of myself.

I came to the attention of Mr. and Mrs. Salazar due to two
unrelated factors. The first was my reputation.  I am a
tough babysitter and lo and behold most parents in this town
want just that when away from the house. And strangely
enough, given the fact this town features the Nudie Juvie
Program, most girls, especially in my age range, just don't
have what it takes when on their own.  They give in or break
the rules themselves. Talk about some wild parties, but
that's another story.  Either way, they are not called back. 
So babysitters in this town are few and far between.  That
alone puts me in demand, and at a premium price no less. 
The second was that Mrs. Salazar works for Mr. Harrington
whose children I babysit from time to time. They are twelve
and thirteen and a handful but with Mr. Harrington's
permission, blessing actually, I treat them as if they were
in the program when babysitting.  That is my first rule when
asked to babysit.  Am I allowed to treat the kids as if they
are enrolled in the program while under my charge. 
Amazingly enough, I have never been told no.

So it was a Tuesday night and Mr. and Mrs. Harrington were
out at the club for drinks and a night of cards that I first
met Mrs. Salazar.  I had been told she would be stopping by,
and why, so the fact that Andrew and Alex were acting up
just played into my hands.  As did fate, or timing, whatever
you call it.  At seven o'clock, just as I had been told,
Mrs. Salazar knocked at the door.  After greeting her
formally, I asked her into the kitchen with a dark warning
to the boys that enough was enough.  I wasn't going to warn
them again.  The "Yes Ma'am." I got back sure raised Mrs.
Salazar's eyebrows, as well as set the tone. In fact her
first question was about them calling me ma'am, although I
must admit, she seemed to warm up to the idea the more she
talked about it. 

Sitting in the kitchen she told me that she needed a
babysitter for her youngest two, Roberto and Jose, ages
twelve and fourteen. I could sense her problem.  She needed
a babysitter and in the worse way, yet she was afraid that
Roberto, being only a year younger than myself, was too
close in age.  Don't ask me how I knew this, but I did, as
well as I had already honed in on her weak spot and decided
to play upon it.  I mean talk about some good looking sons,
the Salazar boys are as hot as it gets.  So I calmly told
her that Andrew was almost fourteen himself, and called me
ma'am.  That helped.  Then I explained that they both obeyed
me, else I would bare and punish them on the spot.  That
seemed to distress Mrs. Salazar, enough that she started to
vocalize her concerns.  I just smiled and said, "Yes. I knew
this."  See Mrs. Salazar's fear was of being rejected again,
as she had by her family.  Of not fitting in.  Of being the
outsider.  So over the course of the next ten minutes or so
I played upon her darkest fear.  That others in town were
talking about her, and that she was failing their test. 
Needless to say by the time we heard the 'ka-boom' from the
living room, Mrs. Salazar was on pins and needles and living
in fear. 

Walking into the front room we saw Andrew and Alex picking
the piano bench up.  It was now or never time.  I didn't so
much as raise my voice, in fact all I did was clear my
throat and put my hands on my hips.  That alone was enough
to get both boys pointing at one another, quickly blaming
the other.  Stopping them in their tracks, I told them I
didn't care who was at fault, both had been told to
behave....or else. Then stared at Mrs. Salazar with hooded
eyes and a tilt to my head that clearly said in this town,
to fit in, you need to act like this.  With that I ordered
both boys to strip, now. 

Mrs. Salazar's eyes grew bigger and bigger as the boys took
their clothing off.  I think she was even smiling, if just a
little, as the closer they came to being naked the more
childish their pleading became.  Until it was one long drawn
out whine when down to their underwear. Tighty whites that
were snug.  I had them stop there, then turned back to Mrs.
Salazar and in a voice the boys couldn't hear said, "See.
They will obey. And so will yours."  The undertone being
everyone knew, or thought, that her boys were out of
control.  Point made, like a dart to the heart, it was time
to focus on the Harrington boys.

Glaring at them like I was an angry princess, I darkly told
them I was ashamed of their behaviour, that they had
embarrassed me in front of company.  Then smiled, if just
this much, and said, "Well boys.  One good turn deserves
another."  Then turned my back to them and whipped out my
cell phone and made a brief, if productive phone call. 
Snapping my phone shut I told the boys, "Since you
embarrassed me. Only seems right I return the favor and
embarrass you. Agreed?" Neither boy answered. Their throats
got tight and they gulped and looked scared, but neither
uttered a sound. Although both sure jumped when seemingly
mere seconds later knocking was heard at the front door.

"Andrew." I said sweetly, "Your the oldest, why don't you
get the door for us." Andrew looked pale, like he had just
seen a ghost, but he did as asked.  The look on Andrew's
face, and Alex's for that matter, when the Clarke girls
greeted them with a too bright hi, was priceless.  The
Clarke girls are Sarah, age thirteen, who rumour has it is
in the throes of her first teenage crush, on Andrew of all
people, and Sammi, age eleven, who is all tomboy. 
Surprisingly their mother was with them.  I was glad I was
far enough back I could take everything in.  The calm smile
on Mrs. Clarke.  The bright eyed look of excitement that was
written all over Sammi's face and the subtle and changing
expressions that played across Sarah's face as she stared at
the boyish bulge under Andrew's tighty-whities.  Her eyes
blazing with an intensity that was visible, much like the
deep throb of a strobe light, followed by a small shudder
that said this was a dream come true.  Of course the look on
Andrew's face was horror, horror that was quickly turning
scarlet.  A scarlet that was fast spreading down his neck
and onto his shoulders. No wonder then I had to remind
Andrew to invite our guests into the house, which he did
with a choke that left him stuttering.

The unintentional dance of the boys as the girls stared at
them was fun to watch, it also said I had time to talk to
the adults, so I turned my attention to Mrs. Clarke,
thanking her or coming over so quickly.  I don't know about
elsewhere, but here, for the most part, the women stick
together, even when separated by decades.  For every one
girl punished, there are five guys who are and the guys
usually get the harsher treatment.  Oh sure their are
exceptions, but that is exactly what they are, the exception
and not the rule.  The reason I bring this up is to
highlight the interplay between Mrs. Clarke and Mrs.
Salazar.  Mrs. Clarke is one sharp cookie and it took her a
mille-second, if that, to sum the situation up and cosy up
to Mrs. Salazar. Speaking to her in a soft and gentle tone.
Within moments I could see the smallest of smiles on Mrs.
Salazar's face, that and how she was hanging onto each and
every word that her new best friend, Mrs. Clarke, was
saying.

With Mrs. Salazar in the hands of a pro I was about to turn
to the boys when Sammi got the ball rolling for us.  She is
a pistol and in the excitement of the moment she got ahead
of herself as without asking permission she pantsed Alex,
leaving him, for the briefest of moments, flashing us his
still developing penis with it's faint traces of pubic hair. 
However it was his giant, "Hey!" that got our attention. 
Mrs. Clarke was giving Sammi such a look, but as I said we
women stick together for the most part, so I just gently
said, "That's ok Sammi." before glaring at Alex and
demanding of him, "Just who gave you permission to pull your
underwear back up!"  I think he was going to say no one,
however before he could answer I told Sammi, "Sweetheart.
You have my permission to take Alex's underwear off if you
want."  Should have seen the kid smile, and bless her little
heart, heard the tease in her voice when asking if, after
that, if her and Sarah could play with 'it'.  Of course I
had no problem with that.

Sammi looked like she had won the lotto when she walking up
to Alex and with a small sound of glee pulled off his
underwear, leaving him red and flustered.  His penis is
neither small nor large, and the few hairs he has are so
sparse it makes the boy look barren, the first fact that
Sammi commented on.  Poor Alex, he all but jumped when Sammi
put her hands on him, much less after she his pulled his
dick up, then down, then made this whirling noise as she
moved it in a circle.  That even got a chuckle out of Mrs.
Salazar.  It was a good thing that Mrs. Clarke was here when
Sarah decided it was her turn.  Being older, and having seen
so many 'bigger' boys being punished, she knew exactly what
to do, and with a shake of her head talked down to her
sister stating, "No Sammi. This is how you get a boys
attention." and with that she engulfed his dick and with a
few gentle strokes later, had him at full attention.

I do not know who was a brighter shade of red, Alex or Mrs.
Salazar, but thankfully Mrs. Clarke was talking to her under
her breath.  The snatches I heard were music to my ears. 
"Of course the boy is embarrassed.  Isn't that part of the
punishment."  Or "Yes, but look at how well he listens.  Do
your boys listen to you....at all.  Much less jump when you
say jump."  I had to take a quick glance after hearing that
and Mrs. Salazar was all but hanging her head, admitting
they did not. 

Alex's penis was erect and getting harder. Of course the
fact that Sammi was playing with him, all but grabbing his
penis and pulling it down, then laughing as she released it,
as it all but snapped back upon him with the small pop of
sound like that of a flicked rubber band landing, that may
have been part of the problem.  Or it could have been that
Sarah, playing the role of the older sister who knows all,
was telling Sammi, "You keep on doing that and you will end
up with white liquid all over your hand." Sammi didn't know
if to cringe or laugh, so she just giggled, hard.  As it was
Sarah, couldn't wait any longer, as with eyes that glistened
she asked me in a voice so sweet it was gooey, "So tell me,
is Andrew as mature as his little brother."  Then smiled.
She knew what my response was going to be.

Andrew was standing still, as if frozen in time, only the
darting movement of his eyes gave him any sign of life. 
Eyes that were growing larger the closer Sarah came, as if
trying to send her in an unspoken message, until he broke
eye contact and let his chin fall to his chest.  The anxiety
in Andrew quieted the room and focused our attention on the
small drama unfolding.  The elastic on Andrew's waistband
isn't strong enough to make noise when being pulled on, so
the faint rip of sound we heard must have been Andrew's
protest when Sarah pulled out, then with a quick smile
looked down and peeked inside the boy's underwear, as if
being given the honor of being the first to check out the
new surprise, before looking back at us with a small but
obvious leer. A leer that was growing.  A leer that was all
but palpitable.  A leer that explained why Mrs. Clarke had
decided to accompany her daughters. 

With Sammi dancing a small jig at her side and demanding,
"Show me. Show me!" Sarah again placed her hands inside the
elastic, only this time with the gentle tease of one who
knows they have an audience, she pulled down instead of out. 
Seemingly only lowering Andrew's underwear, just this much,
when he shuddered in protest. Only when Sarah had built the
tension to a pitch that had Andrew shaking and biting on his
lower lip, only then did she lower his underwear enough to
fully expose his stuff, leaving the boy brightly flushed and
his self-control teetering as he rocked in place. Sarah
continued on, finishing the job by slowly pulling his
underwear down to his ankles.  However it was the duskiness
to her voice as she told Andrew to step out of them, an
order that contained a sexual growl, that caused us all to
take a step back, if with a smile.

Funny how two people can stand so still, yet convey a
thousand emotions.  Such was the interplay between Sarah and
Andrew.  Neither breathing, or so it seemed, their eyes
locked, off into a world only they could see. This for a
full minute before the small clues began to show.  The flick
of Sarah's tongue as she looked down at Andrew's mature
penis.  The way gentle sway to the boy's hips the longer and
harder Sarah stared.  The way Andrew's mouth moved, more the
way his lips puckered and then went flat, like that of a
fish testing the water.  The sudden flinch to his whole
body, more a shudder than a shiver of delight, as Sarah's
hand made contact with his body.  Tracing the lines of his
smooth body with a single finger, before reaching the soft
hairs that were framing and accenting his maturity.  The
way, just before I spoke and broke their spell, both of
their mouths opened into giant O's, as if the prelude to a
full and passionate kiss.  Or so it would have appeared, if
not for the stark fear that was threatening to engulf
Andrew.

Sarah looked more serene than excited, like an artist taking
a step back to examine her creation.  And who can blame her. 
Andrew's brow was glistening with a thin film of nervous
sweat, his boyish features contorted, as if seeing him in a
fun house mirror. The smoothness of his skin shone as if
glass reflecting light, while appearing so silky as to be
baby soft.  Hands that stayed at his sides with fingers that
were spraying apart, then clinching into balled fists. 
Shoulders that were slumping inward, then thrown back, as if
this were an act of defiance.  A long, if not so thick
penis, that was shimmering to and fro, with hairless balls
that hung low, as if waiting to become full.  Long legs that
were skinny, yet lanky, like a runway model's.  All in all
it was a sight to silence a room.  And it had.

Taking the silence as my cue I spoke up, softly telling
Andrew and Alex to come here. Both boys were dragging their
feet, combined they sounded like an out of tune soft shoe
duo.  Small scrapes followed by soft whooshes.  Childish
actions that only increased the closer they got, what with
their soft, almost wet eyes, so big and so round.  The way
neither boy looked anywhere but at the floor.  Or the way
Alex was running his finger across his mouth, as if trying
to decide if to bite on a nail or throw his thumb in his
mouth.  Even Andrew looked much younger than his almost
fourteen years as when standing in front of me he was
lifting one leg up, then down, then doing so with the other,
as if a little kid at the door, waiting for the goods to be
signed for before sprinting towards freedom.

Practice.  Well, practice and natural temperament.  That is
how I managed to keep my voice so calm when asking the boys
what they had to say for themselves.  Neither said a word,
so in a voice that I hoped sounded conversational, I stated
to the room that both had disobeyed a direct order and were
rough housing in the front room.  This after they had been
asked, then told, to stop.  As I was talking, I found myself
nodding in time with Mrs. Salazar and had to force myself to
stop before we looked like a couple of idiots on ritilan. 
Never the less, I had her attention.  This kind of behaviour
she was obviously used to, at least in her house.  And did
not care for.

That prevail light bulb, the kind one sees in the cartoons
when a great idea occurs, that is what I felt when finishing
my lecture.  Forcing my lips to remain in a straight line I
sternly told Andrew to go fetch the hairbrush, then leaned
back and relaxed, taking the moment to study the women, one
by one. Sammi was now standing next to Alex and in this
playful voice was softly singing, while clapping her hands,
"Alex's going to get a spanking." all but laughing at the
way Alex was jumping to each clap. Mrs. Clarke looked so
calm she could have been lounging on the beach. Sarah, the
one time I briefly caught her eye, had this huge grin on her
face.  Her attention however was focused totally on Andrew. 
The way his white bottom tried to jiggle as he ran from the
room.  Or maybe it was that half tear, the one forming in
the corner of his eye that so held her attention.  All I
know for sure is that it is a good thing Andrew knew to run
to his parents room and pick up the brush off his mother's
vanity table then run back, otherwise Sarah might have
hyperventilated in anticipation.  As it was, by the time
Andrew came racing back there was a thin layer of saliva on
her lips that was glistening, and a pinkness to her cheeks
that looked like she had been pinching herself.  One's first
impression, if one hadn't known better, was she had taken
this time to make herself look just a little prettier, just
for him.

Telling Andrew as the oldest he could go first, those were
the words I used to state that it was time for his spanking. 
One that got the reaction I was hoping for from Mrs.
Salazar.  Her head snapped to attention, like she was coming
back from a distant dream, and her eyes were now focusing on
Andrew the way a hunter sizes up it's prey.  A nice prelude
to my words if ever there was one when I said, "No Andrew. I
have no need for the brush.  Why don't you give it to Mrs.
Salazar.  It was her, more than me, that you disturbed with
your rough housing."  If I didn't have a reputation to
uphold, if I didn't want to babysit her sons so badly I
could taste it, I would have laughed out loud.  That is how
comical the expression was on Mrs. Salazar's face. 

What a sight. I mean Mrs. Salazar was as befuddled as an
elderly spinster and Andrew, well, he knew he was going to
be spanked and in someway, internally at least, he could
accept a spanking from an adult female, a mother figure,
much easier than he could me.  Andrew took the few steps
separating Mrs. Salazar and himself and held out the brush
for her to take.  It was weird the way she first looked at
the brush, as if she had never seen one, before accepting it
with the timidness of one being handed a live grenade. For a
moment I was afraid it was going to be too much for her and
might have spoken up if not for the subtle no Mrs. Clarke
mouthed at me. Sure enough, a moment later you could see her
taking a deep breath, then in a voice that was almost too
loud she was demanding that Andrew get over her knee.

Tonight I made a mental note to myself. I had been too
involved, personally, with my charges. It is almost as much
fun to sit back and watch as it is to be directly involved.
Besides, you pick up subtleties you just can't appreciate
when in the moment.  Take the way Andrew quickly went to her
side, never once looking at her, before pausing, mentally
sizing up how far off the floor she was sitting and the
diameter of area he had to drape himself on, before in
motion so smooth it was slick he put his hand out, grabbing
her upper arm, then using that as a brace lifted himself up
onto his toes, then lowered himself across her lap with the
timidness of one checking out bath water that has steamed up
the room, releasing his grip only when he was half way
across and letting himself fall the final few inches.  Or
take the expression upon Mrs. Salazar's face when Andrew was
across her lap.  A brief look of puzzlement, followed by one
that seemed to scream oh my goodness as Andrew wiggled into
her lap, trying to find a comfortable position.  A wiggle
that dug his penis into Mrs. Salazar upper thighs and left
the weight of his balls all but resting upon her crotch.  No
wonder that quizzical look of wonderment crossed her face,
if for a moment.  A moment that was soon replaced by a
sternness of expression I didn't think the woman had in her.

I was surprised by the low tone to her voice, so deep it
almost rumbled, as she began scolding Andrew, telling him he
was nothing if not a bad little boy and damned well deserved
what he had coming from refusing to listen and obey such a
simple request.  I also think she was on overload as while
she was still scolding Andrew, she lifted the brush back and
gave him a smack worthy of an angry adult male.  Then again,
maybe she had been waiting for this moment for a long, long
time as the combined effect of catching Andrew off guard,
with a stroke of such ferocity, and Andrew let out with this
giant bleat of sound.  Impressive for a single stroke.  Even
Mrs. Salazar seemed taken back, stunned for a second before
this crooked grin appeared without warning. The change in
her expression was so sudden and severe it was if she was
now possessed. 

For all I know maybe she was, as the amateur who had let go
with that giant wallop was gone, replaced by a woman who was
swinging quickly, three, four biting strokes at a time, then
stopping.  Then leaning over at the waist, as if needing to
talk into Andrew's ear as she scolded him.  The effect was
immediate. Andrew, just about the time he would start to
jerk, had the source of the pain removed, then found his
attention diverted even further by having to listen to her
words, and answer them, least he refused and she let go with
another giant stroke, as she had to do but once. This
starting and stopping was leaving Andrew in a frenzied state
of uncertainty. Legs that were quivering, as if twitching
from spasms.  A back that was tight and tense, as if ready
to arch up in protest, yet the boy was still slumped at the
waist.  And a voice that was cracking in confusion as he
went from near tears, to choked and respectful answers.

For someone who was looking for a babysitter, for someone
who gave the impression of never having spanked her sons,
Mrs. Salazar sure seemed to know her stuff, as without
notice she quit taking small breaks and started spanking. 
No more lecture, no more pauses.  Instead it was just rapid
fire strokes, one after another, all delivered with about
three quarters of a swing.  Letting the sting and the fire
build in unison until the boy over her lap was crying, with
urgency, and pleading at the top of his lungs for her to
stop, his legs now kicking like a runner who has spotted the
finish line.  Still, Mrs. Salazar didn't stop all at once,
instead she slowed down, a little a time.  First with fewer
strokes, then with less force.  The tapering effect, I
noticed, meant a longer time Andrew spent in true tears. To
the point that by the time she had finished, he was one
long, mournful sound. 

Putting down the brush Mrs. Salazar let Andrew cry for a
full minute, maybe more, until the cries were growing weak,
then she gave him a harsh slap with her hand, a slap that
got him rocking again, before adding a few final choice
comments about his unwillingness to listen.  Needless to
say, by the time she let Andrew up, he was one well spanked
boy.  A point not missed on either myself or Mrs  Clarke,
who had this big old grin on her face.  A grin that
seemingly said, once catching Mrs. Salazar's eye, "Way to go
girl!"  If one can look proud and shy at the same time, that
would have been Mrs. Salazar when going pink and nodding
back in acknowledgement.  Then we all turned to watch
Andrew.  His boyish dance, his fast moving hands and most of
all, his penis.   Had never seen this before.  Usually, even
in his case, a spanked boy grows longer, if not always
fuller, when prancing that fast two-step.  Not tonight.
Instead he had seemingly shrunk, his balls small and tight
and his penis half the size of before.  If it wasn't for his
pubic hair, he could have been ten years old.

Next it was time to spank Alex and while true, I had let
Mrs. Salazar spank Andrew, I decided not to push my luck, or
her limits, so I spanked Alex myself.  The only differences
worth reporting are that after witnessing Mrs. Salazar's
performance I took a long time in spanking Alex, both
starting and finishing with my hand and only using the brush
to get the true fire built in his butt.  The other point
worth reporting involves Sammi.  As I said, she is a pistol,
even so, there are limits.  Still, it was humorous when once
over my knee Sammi boldly asked Alex, "So. Are you also
going to kick and cry like a little boy?"  Talk about a
pitiful sounding voice, that was Alex when croaking out, in
this tiny whine, the smallest yes ever heard.  Sammi just
laughed. Then laughed harder, and in time with the small
chuckles coming from Sarah, when turning to look at Andrew's
reaction to her statement.

Letting Alex do his little boy dance, giving him time to
wipe away his tears, and letting both boys stand in front of
us, hands behind their backs with faces so red you could
have seen them from the sea, I was considering my next move
when Sammi made a casual comment that caught my attention. 
She was telling her mom, "Huh. I guess it doesn't matter
what the boy's age is.  If spanked, they all act the same."
All I did was raise one eyebrow and Sammi spilled the beans,
"Oh. I was talking about Brad.  My mom had to spank him and
you should have seen him cry like a cry baby."  I titled my
head maybe a fraction of an inch, enough to show casual
interest, before going, "Brad? Do I know him?"  Sammi just
gave me this indifferent shrug and said, "Nah. I doubt it. 
He's nineteen and in college."  Poker faced I can be, still,
if caught off guard I guess I am not as unreadable as I
would like to think because even as Sammi went blithely on,
telling me that he was stripped naked last night and that he
has hair everywhere, even on his stomach, yet by the time he
got off their mom's lap, why he was crying harder than even
Andrew or Alex had tonight: that and boy oh boy, does he
ever have a big wanker.  I caught Mrs. Clarke looking at me. 
Then, just before glancing away, she gave me what I took as
the smallest of winks.

As much as I would have loved to have played twenty
questions with Sammi, all about Brad, and wondering what, if
any meaning Mrs. Clarke's wink contained, I was brought back
to the here and now by the sniffling coming from the boys,
Alex in particular.  Seems that being naked and on display
for so long had caught up to Alex, as while not yet hard,
dang if the boy hadn't grown.  His penis was at that half
mast position, neither laying down nor standing into the
air, instead it was more like a gentle curve, the extra
blood rushing downwards was slowly building the pressure
until he was becoming engorged, and therefore lifting,
creating space between his balls and penis.  It was a sight
we all decided to inspect.  Even Andrew was taking small,
fearful quick glances, then turning away with lips so tight
they all but disappeared inwards.  With good reason.

Taking control I intoned that as they both knew, if spanked,
they also had to perform. Such are the rules.  Small
vibrations of movement, so minute they were like a gentle
breeze you feel but can never see, that was their first
reaction.  Their second reaction was to groan in voices that
rose in protest of childish peeps and squeaks, before
cracking into small sobs, sobs that finally broke and
dissipated like blown soap bubbles.  Finally all but
throwing their hands together as if begging for their lives,
one step from falling onto their knees, shamelessly begging
and pleading that they were sorry.

I glared at them with cold eyes until they went silent, then
all but whispered, "No boys.  Those are the rules.  Period." 
Then slowly counted in my head, knowing I was the center of
attention, and loving every minute of it, before gently
adding, "It seems to me that Alex has a little problem on
his hands.  Why don't you take care of that for him Andrew." 
I am not sure if the gasp I heard from Sarah was an intake
of air, in surprise, or if she had been holding her breath,
either way it made for a great exclamation point.  Almost as
good as the twisted cry of protest from Andrew.  See, I am
not sure if anyone else had added one plus one and gotten
two yet, but the boys had.  If one had a little problem, the
other was to take care of it.  Only no hands allowed in this
house.  Not while I was in charge.

I have never seen a face as shiny as Sarah's as when she put
it altogether.  Her first hint was when, without uttering a
sound, Alex turned towards Andrew and looked at the floor,
then bit down on his lower lip.  That got her attention. 
Her second hint was when Andrew took a half step towards his
brother, then all but collapsed, as if a dying man who had
just taken his last step.  She put it all together the
moment Andrew sank to all fours, then leaned forward,
searching for Alex's penis the way the newborn searches for
it's mother nipple.  Open mouthed with unfocused eyes. 

Andrew's first move was to gently stick his tongue out, then
finding the top of his brother's penis softly kissed the
tip, two times.  At that, Alex moaned and took a half a step
forward, so that his penis was all but in Andrew's face,
then arched his back and closed his eyes.  As if intent on
shutting out the world and going along for the ride.  Andrew
opened his mouth, not to engulf his brother's shaft, but to
allow his wet tongue to gently lick the few soft hairs his
brother had.  Layering on a wet sheen, licking them like a
cat cleaning its' fur, until they laid flat against the
skin.  Small pencil looking like lines scattered here and
there.  Taking his face he rubbed his cheek against his
brother's shaft, as if afraid to take him in his mouth,
before Sarah, without thinking, gasped out, "Put him in your
mouth. Now!"  There was nothing Andrew could do, other than
to let one ragged breath escape, except gulp and open,
showing perfect teeth, before closing his lips around them
and in a slow motion, so slow as to be painful to watch, he
put his mouth around Alex's penis, then closed his lips. 
Alex's penis now firmly implanted inside him.

Not wanting to break the spell I looked at Sarah and
mouthed, "You take charge." One thing is for sure, she
didn't need to be asked twice.  Telling Andrew, "That's not
good enough Andrew! I want you to suck your brother.  All of
him.  Otherwise I will put you over my knee and spank you
myself!"  Who knows who was more aghast at her outburst,
they both had eyes so wide and pupils so small all I could
see was the whites, however Andrew, even while making small
gagging sounds, quickly leaned forward, taking all of his
brother in before choking and leaning back.  Then, with one
quick glance at Sarah, took his brother back in, deeply,
letting Alex's penis rest deep in his throat while Alex
gently rocked back and forth, working over his brother's
mouth.  Moaning out a feverish pitch of delight whenever a
darting tongue made contact.

"Andrew" - and Sarah was on a roll, "Take your mouth away
and let's see if you are doing this right." Throwing his
weight back on his haunches Andrew released his brother's
penis, which was now standing into the air.  Hard, erect and
throbbing, as if a drummer marching in place.  Waiting until
Andrew looked her way, with eyes that were beyond sheepish,
Sarah next ordered Andrew to lick his brother's shaft. 
Sticking his tongue out, way out, so there was no chance
Sarah could think he was disobeying her, Andrew leaned into
his brother and staring low, where the shaft starts, took
his tongue and in gentle licks started working upwards. 
Tilting his head from side to side as he worked towards the
top, making sure he completed the circle.  Soft eyes casting
fleeting glances at Sarah, as if silently confirming her
approval.  By the time he reached the sensitive tip, Alex's
knees were wobbling, as if he were teetering, as if ready to
fall inwards, and the sounds he was uttering were as if he
were speaking in a foreign language. Dark and guttural and
sensual, spellbinding, even if no one understood a word he
was saying.  

Sarah was in-to-it, as we say here.  Taking her right hand
she ran her fingers through Andrew's hair, once, murmuring a
soft, "That's a good boy." before grabbing a fistful and
plunging him down onto Alex's engorged shaft, in one violent
motion, then holding him in place as she panted through
clenched lips, "I said suck on him Andrew.  Use all of your
mouth.  Use your throat if you have to!"  Holding him in her
grasp she moved his head up, then down, two, three, four
times in a row before releasing her grip.  Leaving Andrew
gasping for air the way a swimmer does who has been under
the water too long.  Her simple, "Do it right Andrew, or
else." carried a untold threat that made even the hairs on
the back of my neck stand up.  No wonder then that even as
Andrew was staring at the floor he was nodded yes, then
licking his lips wet, then with a great gasp for air, all
but dove onto his brother's shaft.  Dove with such force
Alex had to take a half step back.

It was a subtle difference, his mouth open just this much
wider, his eyes still closed, only his lids were now
fluttering, and his moans maybe a pitch lower, but the
differences were there.  Alex was about to lose his load. 
Just as I was leaning forward the boy let out with this
giant yelp, like a puppy whose tail has been stepped on,
when shouting out, "I am cumming!"  Young and lean he maybe,
but damned if Alex wasn't shuddering like a fat man
laughing, even as he held onto the back of his brothers head
with enough force the tendons in his arm were sticking out. 
Alex kept thrusting himself down his brother's throat,
ignoring his frantic chokes, his head thrown back in a
warriors stance, his left arm thrown straight out to the
side, as moans of boyish relief poured out.  High pitches
that frayed one's nerves, low sounds of dark, damp pleasure
that brought relief, even to the listener.  Moans and
tremors that took a full minute as his body shook, as if
every drop of his liquid was demanding to be released,
before his breathing changed and with a small purr, he
released his brother and took a step back, groaning, still
panting.

What a sight.  Alex shivering, his young, pink penis still
hard and waving in the air. Andrew on hands and knees, his
head hanging down as his Adam's apple moved in and out. 
Sarah looking like a glistening vision, small beads of sweat
framing her face, the ferrous desires now hidden behind a
face of youthful innocence.  Mrs. Salazar's mouth was open,
but not in open disbelief, more a parting of her lips, as if
in deep concentration.  As for Mrs. Clarke, she neither
uttered a sound, nor moved a muscle, until turning her
shoulders towards me and whispering, "Well done child. I see
we have much to discuss." then gave me a wink that was as
slow as it was obvious.  As for Sammi, she was too lost in
thought to react.  No doubt one young lady had much to think
about later tonight, when alone.

Andrew was still on his hands and knees, he knew better than
to change positions, but through eyes that were round and
soft, distant yet aware, he was looking at me. Waiting. 
Nodding at him, I calmly said, "Andrew, show the room what a
good boy you can be."  Biting down on his lip Andrew looked
at the floor, then still on all fours crawled until he was
in front of Mrs. Clarke, before leaning back and opening his
mouth, wide, showing that not a drop, nary a one I suspect,
of his brother's cum had made it down his throat.  It was
like looking into a crystal cave and being drowned in white. 
That was the inside of Andrew's mouth.  Mrs. Clarke smiled,
then whispered to me again, "Oh yes. We will talk."  Mrs.
Salazar inspected his mouth for the longest time, so long
the cum was taking on a chalky texture, before breaking into
the smallest of grins, one that appeared very satisfied.  
Sammi looked, then bunched her shoulders inward and spat
out, "Yuck."  It was Sarah, however, who knew she was in
charge, and acted accordingly.

How calm Sarah sounded when ordering Andrew to come here. 
How small her smile was, the corners of lips twitching
upwards, as Andrew crawled to her.  How strong and
controlled her voice when stating that Andrew was to open
his mouth.  Best of all, how curious she sounded when asking
him, "So. Do you like eating cum."  If his mouth hadn't been
so full.  If the drying cum hadn't turned into a paste that
was like glue, Andrew might have roared his, "No!"  Instead
he let the water in the corners of eyes accent his tiny wisp
of, "No ma'am."  Sarah was silent for a moment, then
proposed the question of the hour, "Andrew. When do you
swallow the cum." I looked back at Andrew with a blankness
that gave him his response, then smiled at the humbleness to
his voice as he stuttered out, "When you say I
can....ma'am."  Then grinned at the glee that broke Sarah's
face in two, as Andrew's chin fell to his chest. Still, how
delightful it was to watch Andrew, at Sarah's command, take
the tip of his tongue and lick his two front teeth dry.  Or
to listen to the small gurgling sounds of protest as she
next ordered Andrew to swallow. No easy task given the dry
texture.  A task that left white rolled globs in his cheeks,
a thin film of white on his tongue and specks in between his
teeth.

It was Sarah's final command that stated who and what she
was when telling Andrew, "Well, if that's the best you can
do then I don't want you swallowing until bedtime and you
brush your teeth.  Understand me?  Not even one sip of pop. 
Keep that cum in your mouth and suck on it, taste it the
rest of the night.  That way maybe you will think before
acting next time. Got it?"  Oh, he got it all right.  Sad as
he was, he got it.

Letting Andrew up, off all fours, I made the boys stand,
facing us, red faced and on display as we spent the next
twenty minutes talking.  Comparing notes and answering the
million and one questions Mrs. Salazar was asking, but
eventually it was time for our company to leave.  Even then,
the night contained one wonderful last twist.  Sarah was
asking if I babysat the boys on a regular basis, and of
course I do, so I said yes.  In the quiet voice, as if
afraid of being told no, she asked if she could come over
and spend some time with us next week, when I was
babysitting.  I was just about to exclaim what a wonderful
idea when Andrew, obviously without thinking, yet again, all
but bellowed out, "No way!" 

Should have seen the way his mouth clamped shut when
realizing what he had just done.  Clamping down with the
force of a snapping turtle.  Too late.  He had crossed over
the line, and in a big way, and he knew it.  I could feel my
eyes becoming slits and my voice viperous when asking him,
"What did you just say?" Andrew wanted to say sorry, or turn
back time, if just for a minute, or so said the frozen look
on his face. Throwing darts into him, daggers of warning, I
turned to Sarah and stated, "In fact. Let's make it a date. 
Then we can address the issue of his mouth. Deal?"  Sarah
was just old enough that after one quick step of glee, she
stopped herself and in a firm tone said, "Yes. Deal."  Even
the slow look of horror spreading across Andrew's face
failed to settle my nerves.  As I opened the door I couldn't
help but look at Sarah one last time before causally adding,
"Oh Sarah? By the way. If you have any girlfriends spending
the night next week, they are free to come over with you." 
The look on Andrew's face said it all.  It was going to be a
week of torturous suspense for one young man.  And by the
look on Sarah's face, the best week of her young life.

  
BSHB_Babysitting_the_Harrington_Boys