Caveat lector.

 

If you don't like sex stories, don't read it.

If you don't like stories about sex with underage children, don't read it.

If you don't like stories bout forced sex, don't read it.

If you are below the arbitrary age set for your area, don't read it.

If for any reason it is illegal for you to read this story, don't read it.

 

Find my stories here-

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/normdeploom/

 

Copyright © 2003 Norm DePloom.  ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.  This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.  The author may be contacted at 'MyStories at normdeploom dot com'

 

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

 

Babysitting Jeremy

The adventures of that cum slut and sex toy known as Little Whore Ellen

Part 02

 

By

Norm DePloom

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"Babysiting for Jeremy again?"   My mom asked.

 

"Uh, yea, it looks like it."

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Masturbate for us know.” 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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