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From: Rufus Fugit <rufusfugit@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Babysitting Lilah: Jenny's Couch Book II, part 18 (Mg, oral, cons, tiny little panties) by Rufus Fugit
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Date: Sun, 15 May 2011 17:10:04 -0400
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This is an erotic story featuring adults and children. If you don't want to read 
such a thing, don't. If it's illegal for you to read it whoever and wherever you 
are, I don't really care. Don't read it, or don't get caught. 


This is my story. It is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution - 
Noncommercial - No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported license. You may copy, 
distribute, or transmit this work so long as authorship is properly credited and 
these introductory paragraphs are included, and you adhere to the terms set 
forth at http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/.

This story is F-I-C-T-I-O-N. No actual children or adults or anything were 
involved in its production. What part of "made up" don't you understand? 
Intelligent feedback gratefully accepted at rufusfugit at yahoo dot com. Stupid 
feedback and flames to /dev/null.

This and other stories available at 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rufusfugit and 
http://www.mrdouble.com/htm/authors/rufusfugit.htm. New stories are posted on 
the latter site first. Membership has its privileges.

I'd like to extend my thanks to the small group of deeply disturbed individuals 
who make up my fan base. :-) I write for enjoyment; my only payment is knowing 
that my writing has brought pleasure to others. So feedback is always welcome. 
Also, please support asstr-mirror.org - bandwidth doesn't grow on trees.

Babysitting Lilah: Jenny's Couch Book II, part 18 (Mg, oral, cons, tiny little 
panties) by Rufus Fugit

It was Friday afternoon, and I was alone in Jenny and Rob's house. Jenny's work 
was paying for them to attend some kind of conference. Jenny was going as the 
firm's representative with Rob in the role of Adoring Spouse.  The two had said 
their goodbyes to their daughters, twelve-year-old Karen and ten-year-old Renee, 
that morning, saw them off to school and then headed for the airport.  Now I 
waited on the couch, nervous and breathless with anticipation. The thing is, 
once you're old enough not to get carded when you buy liquor, there are certain 
difficulties with having a lover who's still in elementary school. I mean, 
difficulties aside from the risk of going to prison forever. For one thing, you 
can't just show up at your little girlfriend or boyfriend's house every day, 
"Hi, can Susie come out and fuck, I mean, play?" I had become more or less a 
member of the family over the past two years, much closer than our actual 
tenuous relationship by two degrees of marriage, and Jenny and Rob were happy to 
let me spoil the girls but even so there just weren't any plausible excuses an 
adult can use to be alone, in private, with a fourth-grader on a regular basis, 
at least not nearly regularly enough to suit my libido. So it had been a bit of 
an acting job to conceal my enthusiasm when Jenny had asked if I would take care 
of the girls so that Rob could accompany her and turn her boring business travel 
into a mini-vacation. The days since then had gone by with agonizing slowness 
and my abbreviated work day today had felt like at least two weeks. 


Renee didn't seem bothered by this. Sex was a fun game that I had taught her, 
but it was just a game, one among many. Maybe that would change as she moved 
further into puberty and her body's urges got stronger but for now she had 
plenty of other fun things to fill up the days when I wasn't around. I know she 
was puzzled and somewhat annoyed by the urgency I felt when we finally could be 
alone.  

My heart rate skyrocketed when I finally heard the scuff of Renee's boots on the 
porch steps. The storm door creaked open and then swung shut. Renee shrugged out 
of her backpack; it hit the hall floor with a thump suggesting that it was 
packed with some of those new neutronium books. Her parka landed on top of it, 
despite the coathook immediately above and her parents' daily reminders of same. 
She shucked her boots and padded across the foyer in multicolored wool 
toe-socks. She was wearing a knee-length mock-jumper,  a colorful red and yellow 
floral print over a white crew-neck with loose elbow-length sleeves.

Renee stopped in the archway. Her body was limned by the winter afternoon sun 
streaming through the storm door. She was wearing her thick brown hair loose 
today. It flowed over her thin shoulders and down her back. Her barely-pubescent 
form was visible through the fabric of her dress - her legs, slightly stocky 
torso, the ever-so-subtle curve that her waist had lately developed. Her panties 
and a half-cami made darker shadows. The fourth-grader stared at me where I sat 
on the couch, nonplussed. She had expected me to be there, of course. But she 
probably didn't expect to find me with my jeans around my ankles, holding my 
stiff cock in my fist and pointing it straight at her. I stroked it slowly, 
squeezing out a single drop of precum that swelled, trembled, and ran down the 
underside of my pulsing glans.

"Hi there, kiddo. I've missed you so much."

"Hi," she responded, sounding a little less than thrilled. She put her hands on 
her hips. "Can't we do that later? I don't have any homework 'cause it's Friday, 
and my show is almost on."

"Oh, c'mon," I wheedled. I knew how pathetic I sounded, begging a ten-year-old 
for sex, but I couldn't help myself. "My penis is so hard, it wants to be sucked 
so bad, it'll be quick, I promise. Just do me first, please?"

Renee heaved a theatrical sigh. "Oooo-kay," she said. "But if I do, then you owe 
me something." She wagged a finger in my direction. "I don't want to spend all 
weekend with your thingy in my mouth, there's other stuff I wanna do." Hearing 
the ten-year-old speak so casually about performing fellatio - even about not 
wanting to do it - made me squirm with pleasure.

"Fine, sure, whatever," I said, as my cock throbbed impatiently. Renee gave me a 
gimlet eye for my hasty agreement, but she stepped forward. I put my hands on 
her waist and pulled her to me, spreading my knees to make room and leaning to 
meet her. Renee was short for her age; seated my head was nearly on a level with 
hers. I tilted my head up only slightly to bring our lips together. 


We kissed briefly, but then the child leaned away and reached between us. I 
gasped at the firm - ow, almost too firm - touch. "Not on my dress," she said, 
putting her palm over my cockhead and pushing it back against my belly, before 
tilting her head and again pressing her small mouth against mine.

"Mmmmmm," I stared into the child's hazel eyes. I liked kissing her with eyes 
open. She smelled pleasantly of laundry soap, shampoo, and just a hint of 
perspiration. My fingers slid up her dress, passing over the slight bulge of her 
breast buds and over the soft skin of her neck. I traced her jawline, feeling 
delicately for those two tiny moles I knew so well. She was still wearing her 
snow cap, and I reached under the flaps to trace the line of her ears.

But Renee wasn't in the mood to dawdle. She stepped back and dropped to her 
knees on the carpet. "Awww, fuuuuuck!" My breath huffed out as the head of my 
penis was engulfed by her hot little mouth. I put my head back, my butt 
squirming involuntarily as her tongue went to work on my glans and she twisted 
her head from side to side, sliding her lips an inch or so down the shaft. One 
small fist wrapped around my shaft at the root - her thumb and fingers barely 
touched - and her other hand was groping through my underwear, kneading my sack 
and gently squeezing my balls.

"Oh, yeaaah, suck my penis Renee, suck it, that's so good, I love your 
cocksucking, love you so much..." Renee's gaze was impassive beneath her 
multicolored knit snowboarding cap, and her only reply was slurping and burpy, 
farty sounds as air escaped the seal of her lips. Soon drool was running down my 
shaft. The contrast between the cool air on wet skin and the heat of her mouth 
and tongue were overwhelming. I pushed my fingers underneath her hat and tangled 
them in her thick hair.

I hadn't lied. It wasn't more than a minute or two before my balls tightened and 
my body tensed. I grunted, my shoes came up off the rug, and I fired the first 
volley of sperm into Renee's mouth. She squeezed my shaft, knowing the slight 
constriction would intensify the pleasure of my ejaculation. She backed off 
until only the very tip remained between her lips and her throat worked 
repeatedly as I unloaded several days' worth of thick, sticky semen into her 
delightful ten-year-old mouth. Her hat fell off.

I shuddered as the tension drained out of me, subsiding to a pleasant ache 
somewhere north of my prostate. Renee straightened, tilting her head back. "You 
swallowed it all," I observed. Renee didn't really care for the taste of cum and 
generally let most of it run out of her mouth.

She  licked her lips. "I didn't want any on my dress," she said and, now that my 
orgasm was passed, her tone made me feel about six inches tall. But before I 
could even begin to fumble out an apology, Renee turned and bounded up the 
stairs, wiping her mouth on her arm as she went. I bent to pick up her cap from 
the carpet, burying my face in it and breathing in the fragrance of her shampoo 
and conditioner. Then, glancing at the stairs, I quickly wiped off my sticky, 
wilting penis against the scratchy yarn.

I barely had time to clean myself up in the downstairs bathroom before she came 
galumphing back down. She had changed from her school clothes to a pair of baggy 
jeans with an elastic waist and butterflies embroidered on the legs, and a long, 
fuzzy sweater in an eye-watering daffodil. She'd put her hair into a ponytail 
gathered into a sloppy knot at the nape of her neck. I was trying to formulate 
an apology as she brushed past me, grabbed the remote, plopped herself down at 
the other end of the couch, and clicked on the tv to a Tex Avery cartoon.  I was 
trying to figure out if it would annoy her more to interrupt her show when the 
phone rang. It was Karen.

"Hi," she said, raising her voice over high-pitched giggles in the background. 
"Lilah! Settle down, shh!" The laughter tailed off, replaced by the sound of 
stomping footsteps and off-key singing receding from the phone. "I'm at Mister 
Dauberstein's house with Lilah."

"Thanks for calling, kiddo. How are you?" Karen had been babysitting Lilah after 
school for several weeks now and she was required on pain of Rob unleashing his 
Mad Daddy voice to call as soon as they got home from school.

"Okay. Lilah's being kind of a spaz today." The sigh of a long-suffering 
twelve-year-old for seven-year-old misbehavior filtered through the wires.

"I can hear," I replied. "So, your folks told me that Mister Dauberstein should 
be home around five? It'll be getting dark by then so I don't want you walking 
back here alone. Yes, I know you're not a little kid, but humor me, okay? Call 
me when you're ready and I'll come get you. I'm thinking we might go out for 
dinner tonight anyway, so maybe I'll bring your sister and we'll just go 
straight from there. OK. OK, fine. Don't strangle the kid. Yeah, love you too. 
Bye." I hung up.

I spent the next hour and a half watching Renee burn off all the energy she had 
banked while sitting at her desk in school. She was sitting on couch kicking her 
heels. She was lying on the floor on her stomach, chin in hands, kicking her 
heels. She was an airplane doing sharply banked turns in the center of the room, 
complete with sound effects. She skipped out to the foyer, got a book out of her 
backpack, and skipped back. She was standing on one foot, reading aloud from the 
trials of the kids at Degrassi Junior High. She was lying on her side with her 
head on a throw pillow in my lap. When she was in reach like that and holding 
marginally still, she allowed me to stroke her back and hair. I was careful to 
keep my touch loving but not overtly sexual. At one point she even snuggled 
against me - briefly, before the wiggle monster again took possession.

When the phone rang Renee was upside down with her knees over the back of the 
couch, doing a wobbly headstand on the seat. It was Karen again. She sounded 
upset. "You have to call Mister Dauberstein. He says he isn't coming home 
tonight."

What the fuck? "Did he say why? Never mind, just give me his number." I 
redialed. "Rubin? Karen just called me. Did you tell her you're not coming 
home?"

I listened with increasing irritation. I knew Rubin was still grieving from the 
recent death of his wife - pancreatic cancer, eighteen weeks from diagnosis to 
graveside - which was why Lilah was a latchkey kid at seven and why Karen was 
watching her. And I knew that during her illness he had gotten increasingly 
religious, to the point where he went to minyan most mornings at our local 
Chabad House and had recently kashered his kitchen. But this was why I thought 
his flavor of Judaism and its obsession with picky little rules was bullshit. 
(Not any more bullshit than any other religion, mind you.)

"Rubin. I know your Sabbath is starting soon, but don't you think God wants you 
to spend it with your little girl rather than in a hotel room? Do you really 
think He minds if the sun goes down half an hour before you can get home? Well, 
I sure wish you'd planned your day better. You've pretty much fucked my weekend 
for me, and the girls' too. Yeah, great, Torah comes first. Maybe you can look 
up what Hillel had to say about that." Just because I was a heathen didn't mean 
I was ignorant. "Of course I'm going to do it - what, you think I'm going to 
leave your seven-year-old alone in your house for 24 hours? I don't like it, but 
at least one of us has her welfare in mind." I hung up angrily. "Dick."

"Who's Dick?" Renee asked from my elbow.

I sighed. "I have to call your folks." I rang Jenny's phone first, then Rob's. 
They both went to voicemail so I called Jenny's again. "So, Rubin got stuck at 
work and decided to keep the Sabbath rather than drive home. Guess who gets to 
babysit Lilah until after sundown tomorrow? And guess who gets scared on 
sleepovers so we have to stay over there rather than bringing her over here? So 
call my cell or the girls', not the landline 'cause we won't be here. Hope 
you're having fun, at least." I clicked off. Renee was looking up at me, her 
expression impassive as she processed what I had just told her mom's phone. 
"Take your books out of your backpack and make it up for a sleepover: PJs, 
toothbrush, toothpaste, clean clothes," I ticked off on my fingers. "Plus books 
or games or whatever to keep you from going insane tomorrow. And get Karen's 
bathroom kit, too. Oh, and where are your sleeping bags? ...Crap, I gotta call 
your sister."

Between my irritation and Renee's natural disorganization it took a while before 
we got out of the house. Renee carried the sleeping bags and I had the girls' 
backpacks, one over each shoulder. I left my truck in the driveway, hoping that 
the walking would burn off some of Renee's excess energy. Winter was continuing 
unseasonably warm. It was a breezy dusk, with clouds scudding across a bright 
gibbous moon, but it was warm enough for me to leave my jacket open and my 
gloves in my pocket. The air smelled of damp earth and thawing humus.

My ten-year-old lover wasn't thrilled about spending the night away from home. 
She thought Lilah was annoying and "a baby", and in general Renee didn't do well 
with sudden changes of plans. That didn't stop her from skipping down the 
sidewalk ahead of me. The way to the Dauberstein house took us over her favorite 
new neighborhood feature, a  pedestrian bridge over the highway, where I had to 
prevent her from practicing her loogie skills on the passing traffic. Once 
across, there were fewer single-family homes and more six-flats and duplexes. 
Lilah's house was one of the latter. It shared an alley with a small retail 
strip, stop-n-rob, dry cleaner, overpriced women's shoes, mediocre pizza, 
overpriced dresses. Across the street was a large park with heavily-shaded 
walkways leading to a picnic area.

There was scuffling and girlish laughter when I rang the bell. After a second 
Karen's voice came through the door. "Who is it?"

"Let us in, Karen!" Renee was jumping up and down, trying to see through the 
mullioned panes at adult eye-level. The door opened and Renee pushed past her 
big sister. I came in behind, bending to give the older girl a peck on the 
forehead as she relocked the front door. Her skin was warm and smooth beneath my 
lips. Stepping back I noticed that she seemed a little flushed and her hair was 
mussed.

"Lilah running you ragged?" I asked casually. Karen ducked her head and nodded, 
but not before I noticed a little blush climbing her cheeks. She turned away and 
I followed her into the living room, enjoying the sight of her butt filling out 
her knee-length khaki skirt. The twelve-year-old had grown mostly up for the 
past few months, but it looked like she might be getting ready to grow out for a 
bit.

I caught just a glimpse of Lilah disappearing around the corner as we entered 
the room. The furniture was comfortable, mostly cream-colored upholstery and 
blonde wood. There was thick Berber wall-to-wall. Family photos crowded the 
mantle of a bricked-up hearth - Lilah from babyhood to present, Rubin mostly 
looking dour, and poor Eliana smiling to light up the room, all in various 
combinations.

Renee unceremoniously dropped her burden in the center of the room, helped 
herself to her backpack off my shoulder, dug out her book and plopped down onto 
the rug, propping herself on one of the rolled up sleeping bags. Karen, on the 
other hand, seemed at a bit of a loss. She stood awkwardly between me and the 
coffee table shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

I was about to ask her what was bothering her when Lilah dashed back into the 
room. "I forgot!" she announced, bending down and snatching a scrap of lavender 
fabric from where it was half-hidden under the couch.

Karen tried to put herself between me and the little girl but she wasn't fast 
enough. "Lilah!" I barked, and she froze. "What do you have there?"

The child reluctantly turned, wearing what I'm sure she thought was her innocent 
face. She was a slim little girl, a bit tall for seven. She had a pleasant 
triangular face, a round button nose, thin lips that were perpetually smiling. 
Her pale blonde hair was thick, cut shoulder length and in bangs straight across 
her forehead. She wore oval wire-rimmed glasses that magnified her sparkling 
blue eyes and the vaguely Asian-looking eyelids that showed her late mother's 
Scandinavian heritage. She had on a gray tshirt from Ocean City and a pair of 
very short gym shorts. Thin, pale legs emerged from the loose navy fabric. Her 
feet were bare. She was wearing a string of multicolored beads around one very 
skinny ankle. For some reason it was those beads that really attracted my 
attention as she dug the toes of that foot into the carpet. She looked up at me 
and then away. "Nothin," she said softly. Her voice was soft but surprising deep 
for such a little girl.

"What do you have behind your back, Lilah?" I repeated, working hard to keep the 
smile out of my voice.

"Nothin'," she repeated, holding out one empty hand. There were several 
turquoise plastic bands around her wrist.

"Lilah. Show me your other hand." She did, but only after putting the first one 
back behind her. "Lilah. You're not fooling me." I held out my own hand. After a 
second, she reluctantly handed me a tiny pair of pale purple panties. I held 
them up and turned them around, front and back.

I couldn't hold back my laughter any more. "It's OK, Lilah, you're not in 
trouble. Did you take these off when you changed?"

"No...I mean, yes, I mean..." she stammered to a stop and looked up, appealing 
silently for help to Karen.

I turned to see the twelve-year-old had erupted in a full blush, pink from the 
roots of her hairline down to her collarbone. Oh, my. She couldn't meet my gaze 
either. I turned back to the second-grader. "Here," I said absently, handing her 
panties back, looking anew at her high-cut shorts with their loose legholes. 
Without a word she turned and ran out of the room.

"Karen, is there something you need to tell me?" I asked. Karen just blushed 
harder, but she managed to nod. "Well?"

Karen's mouth worked but nothing came out. Finally, she stepped forward and put 
her hand on my shoulder, tilting her face up. I bent and when my ear was at her 
lips, she whispered so softly I could barely hear. "I think Lilah is a whore, 
too."

To be continued...

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