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Message-ID: <34103asstr$1008551405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Laura Davis" <ldavis4@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Repost - The Babysitter F/F
Date: Sun, 16 Dec 2001 20:10:05 -0500
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   <1st attachment, "babysitter.txt" begin>

   The Baby Sitter by Laura Lynn Davis Copyright 2001

   A friend challenged me to write a story in an hour or less.  Here it is.

   Shortly after Arthur and I split up I moved into a small apartment in an
older complex over on the west side, near the river.  After nearly four
years with Arthur I wanted nothing to do with men but I didn't know how to
go about meeting women.  Then I met Ariel, a woman in her early thirties
who lived in a nearby apartment with her son, a boy of eight named Robbie.

   Ariel and I went out a few of times, once to the movies, once to dinner,
once to a concert, but she made it clear that she just wanted to be
friends. It was frustrating because Ariel was very sexy and I longed to get
her into bed.  On what turned out to be our last outing together we went to
a play and then stopped for a drink afterward.  Over drinks, Ariel told me
that her ex, Phillip, was back in town and wanted to get together.  The
drive back to the apartment complex was very quiet.

   When we got there, Ariel asked me if I'd mind driving her babysitter,
Carol, home.  Carol was a dark-haired beauty with a strong, athletic body
and long legs.  That night, for some reason, she was still wearing her
school uniform.  Carol was just sixteen, a junior at North Catholic.  Her
skirt was very short, showing off her long, sleek thighs.  When she got
into the car her skirt rode high and I couldn't help staring at her bare,
perfect thighs.

   Carol's house was just a half-mile away but by car it was a longer trip
because of the stupid way the streets around the apartment complex were
laid out.  As we pulled out onto the street I took another glance.  Her
thighs were too inviting to resist.  I reached and put my hand on her knee.
She sighed and slumped down a little, causing her skirt to ride even
higher.

   I drove slowly, stroking her thigh, marveling at the softness of her
skin.  The tips of my fingers brushed against her panty-covered mound and
she moaned softly.  Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted slightly.
I ran my fingers across her mound again and was rewarded with a slightly
louder moan.  I pulled over and shifted into neutral before setting the
parking brake.  She opened her eyes for a moment and whispered, "Not here.
My parents are in New York tonight.  Pull into my driveway.  The gray
house. Number 106."

   I followed her directions and pulled into the driveway at number 106.  I
turned the engine off and turned to her again.  I had her panties off in a
few seconds and I eased over onto the floor on the passenger side, on my
knees.  I licked and kissed the soft skin on her inner thighs until she was
whimpering with pleasure.  I glanced up at her and saw that she'd opened
her blouse and unhooked her bar.  She was cupping her full, firm breasts,
squeezing them gently.

   I bent my head and tasted her for the first time.  The last time too, as
it turned out.  Suddenly, the front seat was all lit up.  The passenger
door was pulled open and someone grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the
car.  It was a cop!  He cuffed me, read me my rights, and arrested me for
having sexual relations with a minor female.

   I lost my job and I was tried and convicted on various charges.  The
judge sentenced me to five years in prison, suspended after two years. 
This was to be followed by probation for ten years.  And, most humiliating,
I'd have to register as a sex offender!

   I did my two years in the minimum-security facility at Falls Village
where I was everybody's bitch.  When I got out of prison a few months ago
my probation officer told me I had sixty days to find a job and a permanent
address or I'd go back to prison to serve my full sentence.

   I found a job, working as a barmaid in a lez hangout not far from where
I used to live.  It doesn't pay much but it's a job and the owner lets me
use the apartment upstairs in return for sex.  It's not much but it's
heaven after prison.

   The bar is a hangout for leather dykes and their sub girlfriends.  In a
twist of supreme irony, Carol came in the other night.  She's eighteen now
and she's the girlfriend of a tough blonde dyke named Junie.  When I went
to wait on Junie, Carol was on her knees by the table, nude, cuffed, and
collared.  I stared down at her in silence for a long moment, enjoying the
sight of her lovely body.  I took Junie's order and walked away without
looking back.  I didn't feel any real anger toward Carol, despite her lying
testimony at my trial, but I did enjoy watching Junie whip her later that
night.

   The End

   <1st attachment end>

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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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