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I enjoy baby-sitting but it can be a pain in the neck sometimes. Today was one of those days. It had been hot and humid and the kids had been grumpy. They’d been reluctant to eat their dinner and didn’t want to play, or to watch TV, or to read a book, or to lie down. They did want to whinge and fight and complain that it was hot and that there was nothing to do.

After dinner I finished up dumping them both in a cool bath and let them play in the water. I’d have to mop up the bathroom afterwards but it would be worth it for some relative peace and quiet.

Eventually the little monsters quietened down. I hauled them out of the bath, put them in pyjamas, and tucked them into bed. Heaven be thanked, they both went to sleep. I guess the heat and humidity and the whinging and fighting had worn them out. I spent the next half hour just keeping an eye on them, making sure they were really asleep.

Satisfied with the way the kids were sleeping I adjourned to the bathroom and considered the mess. How two small children can make such a mess is beyond me. Practice, I guess. Whatever, the mess was my responsibility so I set to work cleaning it up.

When I’d finished the bathroom was in a pristine condition and I was a mess. A bedraggled, wet, grubby, mess. Fortunately, I had a solution for this issue. When I do a baby-sitting gig I at all times take a bag with a complete change of clothing with me. I mean, if a baby craps liquid manure down the front of your blouse you obviously are gonna want to change it. Small children, I have found, tend to release obnoxious fluids from all their bodily orifices, more often than not releasing them onto the baby-sitter.

The way I saw it a nice shower and a complete change of clothes and I’d be right for the night. I could sit back and relax, watching TV in relative comfort. I headed for the bathroom. My nice pristinely clean bathroom. (Stopping to make sure the little darlings were still snoring their little heads off. They were, thank god.)

In the bathroom I stripped off. I’d been perspiring so hard that all my clothes were wet and smelly, even my undies. I’d be stuffing those things into a plastic bag before taking them home otherwise they’d stink up my case.

I had a shower. I had the water set somewhere between warm and cool and just let it drizzle over me. It was wonderful. Having shortish hair I didn’t worry too much about getting it wet. That’s not to say I was gonna thoroughly wash it; I just let some of that cool drizzle play over it.

I got out of the shower feeling so much better. Then I found I’d made just one tiny error when I’d turned the kid’s swamp into a pristine bathroom. I’d forgotten to replace the towels. So there I was, wet and naked and not a towel in sight. I was not, absolutely not, gonna put on any of those slimy clothes I’d already dumped. The solution was easy. I’d just take a few steps down the hall and grab a towel out of the linen closet and dry off in the spare room, which was where my case and change of clothes were. It wasn’t as though there was anyone else home aside from the kids and they were asleep and wouldn’t give a damn what I wore if they weren’t. Elsie and Tim weren’t due home for ages.

I stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall and everything went to hell with that simple move. Mick, Elsie’s little brother, was walking down the hall towards me and I’d just stepped out in front of him, naked and wet. When I say little he was younger than Elsie (and me for that matter) but he was still eighteen and considered himself a real stud. I, and the girls I know, consider him to be a real dork. He’s the kind of full-of-himself idiot that makes your natural idiot look clever.

I dived for the linen cupboard but he guessed what I was doing and he was closer to it. He just stepped in front of it, giggling like crazy as he looked at me. I’ll bet the stupid clown creamed his pants when he realised I was naked. I turned around to dive back into the bathroom but he grabbed my arm and tried to turn me to face him.

I was clawing at his hand and swearing at him and he was sniggering at me, telling me to turn around and kiss him. In his dreams or my nightmares, maybe, but nowhere else.

“What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?” I snarled. “If you don’t get you hand off me I’m going to emasculate you.”

That’s the point at which there was a loud slapping sound and a yell from Mick.

“He’s here because I had to come and drop some stuff off for Elsie,” said another male voice. “Get in the car, you little turd, and don’t get out again.”

Mick shot through at a rate of knots, holding one hand to his ear, which is where his father clouted him, I assumed. Now I was alone with his father, although still wet and naked.

I heard the closet door open.

“I assume you were wanting a towel?” said Elsie’s father, sounding far too amused for my piece of mind.

Turning my head towards him a little I could see him holding out a towel and I turned partway to grab it. That rotten man dropped the towel at the last moment, catching my hand, rather than my hand catching the towel. He just pulled and effectively turned me around to face him, with me trying to cover all my charms with a single hand and crossed legs.

“Very nice,” he said, looking me over. “I can understand why Mick would want to kiss you. I doubt that he’s seen many girls naked.”

“Not live ones,” I muttered. “Do you mind?”

I was trying to pull my hand free from his grip but he wasn’t letting go. I try to respect my elders but he was coming close to getting a real mouthful. Once again I was saved by a male voice.

“Mick is just an idiot,” grumbled the voice, “but you’re a married man and if think Mick won’t tell mum that you were alone with a naked lady, think again.”

For some reason as soon as I stepped into the hallway it turned into Main Street at rush hour. This new voice belonged to Steve, Elsie’s other brother. Apparently the three of them had turned up at once. Steve bent and picked up the towel, offering it to me, not that I had a hand free that I was eager to use to grab it.

“Why don’t you go and take Mick home,” Steve said, still holding out the towel. “I’ll remain here and help Tim shift the stuff when he gets home. I see no need for you and Mick to linger.”

Steve’s father laughed and released my hand.

“I’ll see you at home,” he said, turning and strolling off.

I promptly grabbed the towel out of Steve’s hand and wrapped it around me. I heard the front door bang closed while I was wrapping it around me.

Finally covered I relaxed.

“Thank you,” I said to Steve. “That was so embarrassing.”

“You should have checked there were towels available before you had your shower,” Steve said with a grin.

“There were,” I grumbled, “but I used them all cleaning up after the kids and forgot to replace them.”

He laughed at me, admitting that he’d known the kids to make the occasional mess.

I heard a car begin up outside and assumed that his father and Mick were now on their way home, and that made me relax even more.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, “I’m just going to get dried and dressed,” jerking my thumb in the direction of the spare room as I spoke.

“No,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I asked, puzzled.

“I said no, meaning I’m not excusing you,” he said, smiling brilliantly.

He could afford to smile. He was now holding the towel again, having whipped it off me before I even knew what he was about. I gasped and snatched at it and he callously dropped it just before I could reach it. He also imitated his father in the way he managed to catch my hand. He did better that his father in also reaching out and catching my other hand, promptly holding my hands wide to either side of me.

He pushed my hands behind my back and pulled me towards him at the same time. My naked body was now pressed firmly against him. He released my hands, his hands dropping down to cup my bottom, rubbing it while at the same time holding me close against him. I took benefit of the fact that I had free hands to try to push him away from me.

That worked real well, I don’t think. I wanted to put my hands against his chest and push but I couldn’t reach his chest. My own blasted breasts were squished against him, and there was no room for my hands. All I could do was pluck uselessly at his shirt.

“Pull my shirt open,” he told me, and I flatly refused. No way was I doing what he wanted.

He slapped my bottom. Would you believe it? The callous brute just slapped my bottom.

“Pull my shirt open,” he told me again, and I angrily grabbed hold of it and ripped it open, hoping I was tearing all the buttons off while I did so. It turned out the shirt didn’t have buttons, just a row of press-studs which popped open with sickening ease, resulting in my breasts (which were bare, remember) rubbing against his chest, which was also bare, if you discount the fur rug he had there.

His hands were rubbing against my bottom, going a little lower than they should for my peace of mind. Not that there was anything the least peaceful about what he was doing. At the same time he was moving his chest slightly, causing my breasts to rub back and forth across his chest, teasing my nipples and tickling my breasts with that fur.

Did I mention that the swine was kissing me? Well he was. Not that I was returning his kisses. At least, not very much. I felt very nervous when one of his hands left my bottom and slid around the front. I could feel his knuckles grazing my mons. I instinctively pulled away from his hand, putting more room between us, feeling slightly surprised when he didn’t try to pull me closer once more. After a few moments his hand drifted back around my bottom and I started to relax a little, even as I felt him pulling me closer once more.

That rotten swine. That unspeakable mongrel. Do you know what he was doing when his knuckles were grazing my mons? He was undoing his trousers, that’s what. That’s why he didn’t pull me closer, he was giving himself some room to work. Now that he had pulled me flush against him I was confused for a moment. I wondered his arm was still between us, but with two hands clutching my bottom it couldn’t be, could it?

I had a blinding flash of the obvious. If his arms were behind me then something else was in front of me and I hadn’t noticed him carrying a baseball bat around. OK, so it probably wasn’t as big as a baseball bat but that was the impression I had when I realised what it was.

Now I will go so far as to admit I may have seen a man’s erection. The little darlings do have a propensity for whipping them out and waving them at you, hoping you’ll take pity on the poor little things and pat them. So far I have refrained from succumbing to that temptation, probably because the specimens I’ve seen weren’t very tempting. I have never in my life found one plastered against my stomach. My naked stomach.

I pulled back as far as I could and finally had room to push my hands between my breasts and his chest. With that leverage I pushed really hard, trying to get some distance between us. I wondered it was working for a moment as the space between us widened, then I found my legs getting tangled with his and I was falling backwards.

I gave out a small squeal, thinking I was gonna fall flat on my back. I guess I did in a way but it was a controlled fall and Steve was the one controlling it. He had me lying down before I even caught on to what he was doing and he was on the floor next to me, one of his legs between mine, holding them aside. (That thing of his was also resting on my side and I was determinedly not looking at it. I could feel how big it was. I didn’t need the evidence of my eyes to frighten me even more.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

“Nothing you haven’t done before,” he assured me, but I didn’t feel the least reassured.

“If you’re going to try to do what I think you’re trying to do then you’re wrong,” I told him firmly.

He was silent for a moment while he wondered that through.

“So if I get your drift properly you’re saying you don’t do this sort of thing. Not yet, anyway.”

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NSFW: yes

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