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- 
https://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.





  
BabysittingJeremy02