BabySitter's Pyjamas

Mrs Robinson gave me a call one day, asking if I could sit for her on a Friday night. There was a work party she had to attend. The implication was that it was a compulsory thing. A 'you will attend and have fun, by order' sort of party. I had nothing planned for the night nominated so I agreed and entered it in my diary. It could probably be a sleepover night, I was told, because Mrs Robinson had no idea how long the party would last. That didn't worry me. I've pulled all-nighters before. I get a bonus when I have to sleep over.

When I pulled in at the Robinson's place on the appointed night the place was packed. It certainly seemed that way at first glance. There were two extra couples in attendance. They turned out to be Mrs Robinson's younger siblings and their significant others. In this case the significant others were a husband for Mrs Robinson's sister and her brother's girlfriend.

It turned out that all three men worked for the same company and they were all going to the party. Barbara had decided that they might as well use her house as a staging area and all go to the part as a single group. Hence the crowd.

Of the six adults there I knew most of them. Barbara and George, naturally enough, but also Janice, Barbara's sister and Peter, her brother. Janice's husband and Peter's girlfriend I'd never met before.

They were all quite nice people, with an average age of about twenty five by my estimate. They'd apparently decided that if they had to go to this part they were going to enjoy it.

Shortly after I arrived they were off, leaving me with the kids. The kids had already been fed and bathed, and all I had to do was keep one eye on them as they mucked around for a little while before they headed for their beds. (And tuck them in when they did go to bed and to sit on them if they tried to get out of those beds.)

Once the kids had bedded down I watched TV and flicked through some magazines and watched more TV. Baby-sitting can be a dead boring job at times. Eventually I decided that enough was enough. If I was going to be bored to death then I might just as well go to bed. You don't notice the boredom when you're asleep.

I changed into my pyjamas and went to bed. You know, I like sexy nightwear and if I was at home I'd be wearing shorty pyjamas or a sexy nightie. On a job, however, I have this really terrible baggy set of flannelette pyjamas. What you might describe as a passion-killers. Not that I suspected that Mr Robinson might chance his arm. George was a very nice man and he wouldn't do that. It's just that I make it a hard and fast rule to wear them when I sleep over, as that way I'm not likely to forget on those occasions when the man of the house might be a lecher.

So the kids were in bed asleep. I was in my bed in my passion-killers and very quickly drifted off to sleep myself.

I'm not sure what woke me. I lay in bed considering. First I had to remember where I was, because I wasn't in my own bed. Then I remembered - the Robinson's place. A glance at the little clock-radio next to the bed showed it was one am. Then I heard a little noise from somewhere in the house.

My immediate assumption was that one of the kids had got out of bed and was up to no good. As baby-sitter, it was my job to get out of my nice warm bed and check up to make sure they were OK, providing loving care if they were unwell or a grouchy face if they were just being mischievous. With a sigh I climbed out of bed and went looking for the source of the noise.

There was a light on in the front room and I knew that I'd turned it off before going to bed. I marched down there and walked in, demanding, "OK. What's going on?"

As I stood there, looking at the scene, two thoughts jumped to mind. The first was that I really should have considered the possibility that the Robinsons had returned earlier than expected. The second, and by far the more important, was the realisation as to just why a politician's first rule is to never ask a question that you don't know the answer to, or a question where you do know the answer but don't want to.

Let me explain the scene as I saw it. George and Barbara hadn't returned alone. Janice and her husband were also there. Um, now how do I phrase this. Barbara and Janice weren't fully dressed. (This is a polite euphemism for saying they were both starkers.) George and Janice's husband, on the other hand, had slightly more clothes on. On the top half of themselves, anyway. The bottom half matched the ladies attire, or lack thereof.

Now Barbara and Janice weren't only stripped for action, they were positioned for it. The men folk, it was plain to see, were primed and ready for action. Well primed, from what I could see, and I could see plenty.

Now, as you can guess, this little scenario came as a slight shock to innocent little me. I mean, I understood that married couples (and unmarried couples) did certain things when they were alone. It had just never really registered with me that they also did these things in company. However, what came as the biggest shock was that the pairings weren't husband and wife as I would have expected. It appeared that it was about to be husbands and sisters-in-law. The men were playing with the wrong partners.

It has taken a bit of time to describe the scenario, but it all registered with me in a single quick flash. I could feel the heat rising in my face as I choked out an embarrassed apology and turned to bolt.

Right into Peter, who was standing behind me. Where the hell had he come from and where was his girlfriend?

"My, my," said Peter. "Who have we here?"

"Ah, you remember Vicki, our baby-sitter," said Barbara. "Unfortunately, it seems we forgot that she might be up and about."

"A slight error of judgement," drawled Peter. "How gossipy is she?"

"What?" I gasped. "I wouldn't say anything. Not ever. Anyway, your girlfriend is more likely to talk than I am."

From what I'd seen of his girlfriend earlier she was a real chatterbox. She spread details of this little affair far and wide. I looked around, trying to spot her.

"Quite true, she would," said Peter, "but she isn't here. You, unfortunately, are. How do we keep you quiet?"

"I won't say anything, I swear," I said quickly. "I'll just go back to bed and pretend this was all a dream."

I could see that he was considering letting me bolt for my bed when Janice's husband opened his big mouth with a really lousy idea.

"She won't talk if she's part of the action," he said, "and you don't have a partner, Peter."

Ye gods. He was telling Peter to rape me. Fortunately, Peter shook his head, smiling a little.

"No can do," he said softly. "The laws say you've got to throw the little ones back."

Little ones? How young did he think I was?

"If you don't mind," I said rather huffily, "I'm not that little. I am eighteen, you know."

"Actually, no, I didn't know," Peter told me.

While he was saying that he was also flicking open a button on my pyjama top. He slipped his hand in and squeezed my breast. I could feel my eyes popping wide and I was hastily pulling away from him.

"Very nice," he told me, "but it's still a case of leave the little ones alone. Not so little, from what I just felt, but virgins can get so upset and flustered it's not worth it."

Now I was even more indignant. What, I was a prude and a wimpy virgin, scared of my own shadow? That man was starting to annoy me.

"It's the pyjamas that fool you," I said, and you could hear a touch of ice in my voice. "Just because I wear these when I'm out, it doesn't mean I'm still a virgin."

"You're not?" he asked, sounding completely disbelieving.

"No, I'm not," I snapped, even if it had only been one encounter, and a not particularly satisfying one at that.

"OK," Peter said, "you've convinced me."

With that he took the lapels of my pyjamas and pulled in either direction, buttons popping out of their holes, except for one which popped right off. I'd been meaning to tighten it.

I looked down at where my breasts were now on display for all to see, feeling like a right idiot. Peter had been giving reasons why he shouldn't take me and I'd been knocking his arguments down. I'd practically been begging him to take me.

He didn't stop at the pyjama top, either. He yanked on the tie at the waist and sent the bottom half of my pyjamas on a downward journey. I hadn't been wearing undies and just like that I was standing there, effectively naked.

My hands moved quickly to cover myself but Peter moved even quicker. He caught my wrists and just held my arms to either side while he looked me over. I could practically feel his eyes touching me. I flung a quick glance at the others to see if they were looking at me.

"Don't worry," Peter said, correctly reading the glance. "They know I've got you and they're too interested in what they're doing to worry about you."

"That means that you can let me go back to my room," I said quickly.

"It does, indeed," he said, and I gave a relieved smile.

The smile sort of slid off my face moments later. Peter calmly unzipped and pulled out his cock, and it was standing right up.

"We'll just get you mounted and I'll take you back to your little bed," he said.

I was trying to pull away but Peter still had hold of one of my arms.

"Look, you're not really going to try to make love to me," I explained. "You're just trying to frighten me. OK. You've succeeded. I promise I won't say a word."

"For someone who's frightened, you do seem to be aroused by fear," came the response, as Peter brushed his hand across my breasts and nipples. Very erect nipples, unfortunately.

I swallowed. "That doesn't mean anything," I quickly told him.

"Mmm? We'll see. I'll give you a little test. I'm just going to lift you up and rest you against my cock and carry you down to your little bed. If you can refrain from sliding down onto me I'll just drop you on your bed and leave you."

"Wh-what happens if I do slide down a little?" I asked.

"We'll have to wait and see, won't we?" he said, and he had on a truly evil smile.

With that comment he pulled me hard against him. His hands closed over my bottom and he lifted me. A slight hitch with his hands and he was pulling my thighs apart, wrapping my legs around his waist. I could feel his cock pressing against me in a very sensitive spot. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trusting that my grip around his waist and neck would stop me sliding down.

He cheated. I swear he cheated. I've seen him walking around and he can move like a cat, all soft, smooth, gliding. Was that how he walked down to the guest bedroom and my little bed? It was not.

The very first step he took he came down on his right foot with a thump that must have jolted him all the way to his teeth. It very definitely jolted both me and his erection, which gave me a very firm poke. Not that it got anywhere, because I was hanging on tight, trying to lift myself up and away.

The trouble was that I'd just adjusted to that when he took his next step, bouncing down onto his other foot. With each bouncing step his cock bumped harder against me, slowly but surely pushing its way between my lips, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. One of the problems was that I was actually damp. I mean, the others had been naked and aroused and it couldn't help but have a bit of an effect on me, especially as I was now naked, with a cock trying to say hullo.

For the first few steps I was fine, but then there was an extra hard jolt (deliberate, I just knew it) and the head of his cock just seemed to pop up between my lips. From then on I was fighting a losing battle, each step driving him a little deeper into me. The fact that I was squeezing and trying to slow him down just seemed to heighten the sensation of his cock pushing along my passage in defiance of my wishes.

By the time we reached the bedroom I was using Peter was well inside me. Maybe not all the way, but I don't think that made any difference. He just moved over to the bed and dropped me onto my back, coming down with me. The force of him landing on me finished me off, with his cock finally sliding all the way home.

"That was - interesting," Peter said, smiling down at me.

"No, it wasn't," I immediately denied, writhing slightly under him, trying to work out exactly how I felt about having his cock in me. I won't say I was happy to have it there, but I can't really say it was distressing me, either.

And just like that he disengaged. I mean he just pulled out, rolled off me and the bed and stood up. I was like, "Say what? Now you decide you don't want to ravish me? What, I'm not worth raping or something?" I didn't actually say that, of course, but I was most indignantly thinking it. What did he think he was playing at?

Peter reached down, took my arm, and drew me to my feet, turning me to face the bed.

Now I did start protesting, demanding to know what he thought he was doing.

"I'd have thought you realised," he said softly. "A young woman as experienced as you should know that we have to try out a few things before we settle down."

What the hell was I supposed to say about that? Deny the amount of experience I had? Not bloody likely? Ask for an explanation? Just as bloody unlikely. All I could do was wait and see what happened.

I didn't have to wait long. Peter urged me forward until I was bending over the bed with him behind me. I could feel his erection pressing against the cleft of my buttocks, then he was dragging it down and easing it between my legs. I could feel the head rubbing against my lips again, coaxing them to part. Peter's hands came around me and closed over my breasts, holding them firmly, and he pushed. He just drove in hard, with me feeling his cock charging up my passage, driving all the way in while he squeezed my breasts. Just like that I was being screwed again.

But I wasn't, it turned out.

"I'm not sure," he says, disengaging again. He turns me around, pushing me back against the bed and parting my legs. Now I had the honour of watching as he parted my lips, placed his cock between them and drove home. Slowly, this time. I had plenty of time to watch and feel as he sank slowly in, taking his time, and I was feeling so sensitive I could feel every millimetre of his cock pressing against my passage.

"Is this better?" he asked, and he was finally starting to take me.

I watched, fascinated, as his cock pulled slowly back out and then plunged back in. I was breathing hard and had just decided that I should be moving with him when he shook his head.

"Let's try something else," he said, and I nearly screamed with frustration when he left me. What the hell else did he want?

Hands and knees, would you believe? He made me roll over and when I protested he slapped me on the bottom. I protested and he just calmly informed me that women should do as they're told in the bedroom. I considered that to be a bit of a chauvinistic remark, and then he added a rider.

"Actually," he said, "it would be a lot more peaceful if women would just do as they're told wherever they happen to be."

I'd have been tempted to slap him but it would have been awkward, lying there with by bum in the air and his cock leaning against me. His hands came around to capture my breasts again while his cock came slithering back in. I was getting used to him coming into me. Not surprising, the practice I was getting.

He gave me a couple of hearty thumps with his cock and then relaxed.

"So what do you think?" he asked. "Any preferences?"

Yes. My preference was for him to stop tormenting me and get on with it. I was so aroused that I was squirming around, trying to get him to start moving.

"No preference," I managed to say. "If you're going to take me just do it."

"I don't know. Are you sure you don't have any favourite position. We can go through them again if you want to and there are some others we can try."

And he still wasn't moving. I'm crouched there, cock up me, hands gripping my breasts and getting more frustrated by the minute and he wants to discuss positions? I wanted to scream and was too frustrated to even speak coherently.

I must have muttered something, but damned if I know what. On the other hand that pig acted as though I'd made a perfectly reasonable suggestion. He pulled out again, damn it, and rolled me over onto my back.

"OK, if you insist," he was saying, "but this is the last time. We can't just keep playing around because you're curious."

Like it was my fault that he was doing all this. I'd have been quite happy for him to just take me as soon as we landed on the bed. Well, no, I wouldn't, because I didn't want him to take me at all, now did I?

Peter grabbed my ankles and lifted them high and wide, leaving me completely exposed and staring at myself, observing his cock hovering tantalizingly close to me. Then he simply seemed to lunge forward, driving all the way in with one hard thrust. At the same time he let go my legs and they came folding down around his waist while his hands returned to my beasts.

This time he apparently decided that it was time for some more serious action. He started taking me properly, driving in hard, and right from the start I responded. It was automatic, with no thought required. He drove in and I thought, "Yes!" and pushed up hard to meet him.

We banged together hard and often. I might have mentioned that my previous sexual experience hadn't been too hot. This time the experience had already lasted longer than the first time and had got me a lot more aroused. The nice thing about it was that we were still just warming up. Things could only get better.

(Even if I was a reluctant participant. I hadn't agreed to this, remember. I was being ravished. I'm really not the sort of girl to have sex with a relative stranger. I just want to make that clear.)

Peter was definitely getting his money's worth. Not that he was paying me. But if he had been, I'd have most definitely earned it. He was driving in hard, really nailing me to the bed, then bouncing back to take me again. The fact that I was meeting his thrusts, pushing up quite vigorously while he drove in, did not stop us from really denting that mattress when he landed on me.

At the same time his hands were stroking my breasts while his mouth was all over my face, kissing me on the lips, somehow managing to twist down to mouth my breasts and nipples.

And all the time his hands and mouth were doing their thing his cock was bouncing me off the bed, driving down and then pulling back. I'll swear that a couple of time he pulled back so fast that the relieved mattress springs popped me clear up into the air.

The whole thing kept on going and going, with me bouncing eagerly as I strained to keep up with Peter, while gasping and muttering I don't know what. All I knew was that Peter was ravishing me and doing a marvellous job of it and I saw no reason why he should stop.

I couldn't believe the excitement I was feeling. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before and it kept on growing. I'd feel Peter sliding deep into me and exciting little ripples would dance out and away, building on the arousal and excitement already there. The whole thing just kept on building and building, taking me higher and higher with no end in sight.

I started feeling uncomfortable. The excitement had reached a level that was almost frightening and I could feel myself getting tense. Something was going to happen and I was damned if I knew what. I was just awash with feeling, with Peter seeming to move faster and faster.

He was moving faster, I realised. All of a sudden he was really driving into me. I barely had a chance to notice this when the world just seemed to come apart around me as I climaxed and kept on climaxing, shaking from the force of it.