A Babysitting Memory And A Wish

Now look, when a girl first starts masturbating, she keeps it as private and quiet as possible. Her mum knows…or, more accurately, whoever does the laundry knows. The heavily stained panties are something of a give-away, but other than that, it’s secret, private and silent. Nothing daring…well..not too daring anyway…until, that is, you have a fucking huge house at your disposal, and are blessed with sitting for a baby who sleeps right through the night after her last feed. Then, my lovelies, it’s another world! 

The idea hit me on the second time I sat for this couple. I’d rubbed off the first time, but fully clothed and as usual, silently for some reason. The baby’s room was miles away, and she would have slept through a medium-yield nuclear blast anyway. 

So….a word first on the home.. you’ll need it for the context. Six bedrooms, three floors plus basement. Antiques everywhere, and the parents drove a Rolls Royce. Got the idea? 

So, Miss Brain as usual started her silent countdown of 30 minutes. Why 30 minutes? No idea…probably to account for someone forgetting something and coming back. Anyway, I figured after half an hour, the place was mine. Anyway, 30 minutes gives a girl plenty of time to rifle through her “what shall I wank over’ folder of fantasies and images.  I’d just settled on a rather scrummy one of being stripped off by an older man, and was just about to reach into my clit when Miss Brain popped up on the intercom and said ‘Why not do it?’ 

So I did. I stood up, pretending I was standing in front of this imaginary older man and having a suggestive conversation. 

“Yes, sir…I suppose I am starting to develop a little. Oh they’re proper boobs….small, but perfectly formed. You’d like to see them? Ok.” I took my top off followed by my trainer bra. “There. See? Why yes, they are firm…here…feel them.”

And so it went on until I stood there in just my ankle socks. I had pretended I’d made him get his cock out and was wanking him while he fingered me, and I was getting into it. Really into it. I moaned, groaned, swore, did all the things that just came naturally to me. Including fantasising about him fucking me and taking my virginity. Trust me, every girl fantasises about this at some point.

And so, I lay on my back on the deeply piled carpet, legs spread and an imaginary older man inside me and pounding me. I remember distinctly crying out. “Oh fuck….you’re gonna make me cum! Fuck me….fuck me harder…harder….harder.” And I had exploded in a nice, squirts cum on that deep red carpet. Boy, it felt good! The less inhibited you are when you cum at that age the better. There is a place for having to cum totally silently, and that, too, can be exquisite. (In class…for example.) 

I lay there for a while feeling genuinely as if I’d just been fucked senseless before getting up and spending the rest of the evening naked, and wanking off again. Padding around someone else’s home naked is a thrill in and of itself.

I’m not sure at which point I noticed the tiny white boxes high up on the walls. I worked out that if I stood absolutely still they were just that…white boxes high on the walls, but if I moved a tiny red light blinked. Movement detectors then? No doubt linked to a burglar alarm, and given this particular home, I’d bet there was a direct line to the police as well. 

That was the beginning of a lot of exploration in that home. I wanked in every room I was allowed in. (There were some rooms out of bounds) I even rubbed one out on their bed, lying where I thought his wife did when he fucked her imagining, of course, he was doing me. And yes, of course I had a rummage through the drawers on her side of the bed. Very nice underwear which I didn’t dare try on. You can’t leave your cum stains in another woman’s panties without her knowing. But I did find her vibrator. That was fun. 

He always drove me home afterwards, and despite me engaging in some cheap tricks such as sitting in that gawky way teenage girls do sometimes with my knees wide apart, he never made a move other than to glance down more than was necessary. My skirts got shorter….shorter to the point where those casual glances saw that special white ‘V’ that promises oh, so much. If he had made a move, I have no doubt it wouldn’t have been all the way…but at that age, even a light fingering is devoutly to be desired! 

I’m not sure why, even to this day, why Miss Brain did what she did. I was lying on that luscious carpet, naked and wanking when I caught sight of a movement detector blinking as it usually did. Miss Brain said “I bet they have cameras in them too. You know , to record the intruders for evidence.” Fuck! Have you ever been literally torn in half? On the one hand my arousal went from 99% to well over 1000% and on the other, it was joined by a white-hot searing fucking panic! Was he watching me wank on the security video? Was that why he hadn’t made a move? By now he’d have quite a collection! Fuuuuuuck! Fucketty fuck fuck arseholing bollocks!, to coin a phrase. 

I never did find out, and they continued to book me to babysit until they moved away two years later. Even so, that ‘maybe he did, maybe he didn't feeling was delectable….and no…it didn’t stop me having completely unencumbered, free wanks, although the more comfortable I got masturbating at home the less important it seemed to wank there…then again, wanking in someone else’s home is lovely. 

Which brings me to the opposite side of the coin….the utterly silent, physically restrained orgasm. Latin was considered important. No, I don’t know either. Maybe they had some nun’s wet dream that we would all take the veil in which case, all those second declensions would come in useful! Who knows? All I knew was Latin was held in a South facing classroom with one wall entirely made of glass. On a fucking Friday! Actually, last two periods on a Fucking Friday! 

The temperature in that room could give hell itself a run for its money! And that little sister’s voice! Almost a monotone, and just quiet enough to make listening to her a real strain. Trust me, five minutes into the lesson, we were all sweating profusely, and were having trouble keeping our eyes open. Which was unfortunate, because she was a viscous little bitch of a nun who loved using the belt on us. 

But teenage girls will be teenage girls, and it was in that class that I decided to see if I could give myself a thrill. That’s all I was going for…just a sexy thrill. It would be enough to keep me awake, and I could always finish off in the restroom at the end of school. 

I perked up just at the thought! I mean, why not? I’ve always been good at languages, even dead ones. In actual fact, I was very good at Latin, which meant this sister had no interest in me since I always knew the answers and therefore she couldn’t bully me or find a reason to strap me for anything. (We called it ‘the strap’) 

We had been told to read a paragraph of text and then we had to translate it verbally (she didn’t believe in giving herself any marking). I’d got it in about two minutes, so I sneaked my ruler under my desk and in through the slit in my kilt. As soon as I felt the rounded end of the ruler on my panties I absolutely knew I had better stop now. I knew I could cum like this. 

Did I stop? No! Of course I didn’t! I kept running that exquisite round edge over my panties, over my clit, down to my hole…a firm press and it took my panties inside me a little way, back to my clit….oh fuck this felt good! Round my clit, down, in back. Me staring sightlessly at the print on the page, a few rapid pushes and a mental image of a girl’s tongue lapping at my hole and then…..then Miss Brain pointed out that the girl I was fantasising about was sitting right in front of me. 

Owing to the placement of a radiator, that row of desks was offset to mine, meaning I could see over her right shoulder. She had her kilt rucked high over her thighs in an effort to keep cool, which meant I could see her creamy thighs, and imagine getting between them myself. That was all it took. 

Even as I moved the ruler back to my clit Miss Brain was screaming at me not to and warning me that I would cum. At the same time Miss Brain was running around deactivating circuit breakers as fast as she could go. Movement, off. Voice, off. Breathing, off. 

And so an orgasm of immense proportions raped me. And yes, I mean every word of that strange sentence. It didn’t overwhelm me, or flood me, or take me to heaven. It savaged me, abused me, raped me. Every single nerve ending in my body was involved. I felt the squirt…and it was a heavy one. Still….my equally thick kilt would finally be of some use and absorb it. But I remained rock still, not even daring to breathe. AND…IT…WOULDN'T…FUCKING…STOP. 

Maybe it didn’t last longer than any others, but it felt like it did. Worse still, every tiny movement seemed to stimulate it further. It was horrific. It was beautiful in its rawness and savagery. 

I had moved the ruler from off myself but even the lack of pressure had conspired to continue it. I became aware of being utterly soaked, and that continued it. Even the thought of I must reek of sex continued it.

But it did ebb…finally, and I dared to breathe again. I learned far more about myself than I did about Latin that day. I learned the exquisite pleasure/pain of orgasming with not a single outer sign amongst 15 other girls and a wizened auld nun. File THAT for later. 

I would go on to practice the art in other classes…not always successfully. A couple of times, the girl sitting next to me noticed. Not once did they drop me in the shit…in fact, one wrote “Well done!” On her rough book! Another wrote “Nice one, bitch.” 

Masturbation is, without doubt, a multi-faceted diamond. So many ways of doing it. So many places. So many circumstances. What starts out as a solitary, utterly private thing can, like a tropical flower, blossom into something magnificent…

…if you let it.