Date: Sat, 17 Jan 2009 21:08:50 -0800 (PST) From: Matt Surname Subject: Sheila the Babysitter 04 All the standard warnings, disclaimers and copyright information detailed in the first chapter still apply. Copyright 2009 Dark Horse. All rights reserved. Story Codes: Gg, bg, G-solo, bi, ped, toys, rom, 1st, oral, voy, mast, con Sheila the Babysitter 04 by Dark Horse "Melody," I sighed softly for umpteenth time, "you look perfect, okay?" Standing before our shared bedroom's long mirror, the adorable, petite eight-year-old turned this way and that, worriedly studying her reflection. And they say teenagers like myself obsess too much about our appearance. Okay, that wasn't fair of me. Tonight will likely be one of the most memorable nights of Melody's life. If it was me in my best friend's small green pumps right now, I'd still be trying to decide how to style my hair, let alone having chosen what to wear. I know it's nerves making her fret, absently touching her hair, and giving micro-adjustments to her new outfit every few seconds. I like the dress she'd gotten at the mall earlier today. A wispy jade summer dress, it accented her pale blue eyes, and the auburn pageboy with its green hair band. The haltered front of the dress climbed her flat stomach and chest to tie around the neck, leaving the smooth skin her arms, shoulders, and entire back bare. The short, pleated lower half of the dress beautifully showed off the preteen's slender bare legs. Snugged to her sweet ass and hairless pussy was a pair of silky jade panties, with a tiny little bow centered on the waistline. A matching jade ribbon around one wrist both simply, and elegantly, completed the stunning outfit. I'm glad she hadn't gone with any of that gaudy toy jewelery or glittery make-up, which some of her classmates loved, as it would've cheapened the entire effect she was going for. As for myself, my choice of outfits tonight was equally important. Men don't know how lucky they've got it. Grab any old clothes off the floor, drench themselves in cheap-ass body spray, and off they go. How guys think stink-in-a-can will make girls come running to fuck them, is beyond me. To myself, the stuff smells worse than a rutting moose with the squirts. Girls on the other hand, dress not only for success, but often to reflect who we want to be at the moment. Stepping out, we can be conservative or casual, seeking or shy, proper or slutty, or just about anything else we want to be. Colour, coordination, current fashion, and even the material itself all play as an important role themselves, as how the outfits actually make us look. Our clothes, along with our hair and our bodies, are status symbols, which can often be wielded like a hidden dagger. That was reason for the dilemma of what I was to wear tonight. If I dressed too well, then it would distract from the beauty of Melody's dress. If I dressed too plainly, then it would appear like I'm trying to make Melody's dress look better. It didn't help matters any that I'm a beautiful sixteen-year-old, with an athletically-slender physique. Thus, the mini-crisis was as precarious as balancing atop a razor blade. It had taken me the entire ride back from the rec center, and a lot of trial and error, to find the perfect balance. The older pair of jeans I chose weren't new enough, nor faded enough, to draw attention. A simple black t-shirt was equally perfect, except for how it accented my narrow waist. As well, seeing as I refuse to wear bras, even dressed in solid black my puffy nipples are still too noticeable, jutting like thick cones from my shallow boobs. A thick sweater would've solved the problem, but wearing one in early June? I'd be better disguised wearing a clown's costume. I'd nearly drove myself crazy trying to come up with a solution, until inspiration struck. It took some serious digging through my closet, but I'd found it. The light grey vest was better than perfect. Even unzipped as I kept it, the vest concealed both my nipples and trim middle, but without being obvious about it. Topping everything off with lifting my long blonde hair up in a ponytail, and that my looks balancing out the blue, black and grey theme I had going, my new casual outfit appeared perfectly average enough not to stand out. Now came the problem of Melody's nervousness. Getting up from sitting lotus-style on my bed, I padded bare foot to stand behind Melody. The eight-year-old looked into my deep blue eyes in the mirror's reflection, her uncertainty as striking as her appearance. I placed my hands on her bare shoulders. "Mel," I said softly, "you could spent the rest of your lifetime in front of this mirror, and you couldn't look any more beautiful than you already are." "But," she hesitated, "will Billy like it?" Chuckling, I squatted down as she turned around, taking her delicate hands in mine. "When Billy sees you, Melody, he'd spunk his pants right then and there, if he could actually cum yet." Grinning at the thought, she gave me a grateful hug. "Sheila? Do you think . . . Mrs. Langdon will like me?" "Are you kidding me?" I winked. "She's going to think you're so delicious, she'll want to eat you up on the spot." "Stop," Melody giggled bashfully. "You're going to make me have sticky panties." Because we're so close, and that I see Melody as the baby sister I never had, there are no secrets between us. That included my near-absolute certainty, that Carol Langdon was a closet pedophile. When I had arrived home last night from babysitting eight-year-old Billy, Melody and I had stripped naked to climb into my bed together. She'd squirmed under the sheets with her teddy bear, until she'd laid cuddling half-atop of me, her face on my small, puffy-nippled tits, and an arm and leg thrown over me. I'd began describing Billy to her, sparing no detail I could think of. As I'd been doing so, my other hand that hadn't been absently caressing her naked back, had slowly slid down her slender body. Over a hip and down her pert little bum, my fingers had found her wetly waiting pussy. Despite that she'd surely masturbated to the cell phone photos I'd sent her earlier, of Billy posing in speedos in front of the mansion's backyard pool, she was like myself in always welcoming sex. While Melody had hung on my every word, I had fingered her still-eager slit. By the time I'd finished explaining what I knew of Billy, the little girl had her face buried against her teddy bear, muffling her orgasmic cries. Having let Melody recover, I had started fingering her hairless cunt once more, and gone on to describe Billy's mother, Carol Langdon. When I'd explained Carol's reaction to seeing the photo of her in a bikini, and my certainty that the thirty-four-year-old divorced mother was a closet pedophile, Melody had been wracked with another gushing orgasm. It had been so intense, she'd passed out from cumming a second time that day. Having let her sleep, I had willingly ignored my own needs, and drifted off myself holding her to me. Waking early this morning, we'd discussed the likelihood of Carol's lust for the both of us. As well, I'd given her a refresher course in sex with boys. Most of it had been just reviewing the basics, with some added pointers, which had included how to suck a cock. For that I'd grabbed my purple vibrator to let her demonstrate on. Even though she'd never actually sucked a real cock before, her practice run blowing the vibrator was flawless. If a mechanical sex aid could've cummed, there'd have been machine parts embedded in the far wall. As we'd been both gotten so worked up again, and breakfast having been so near to being called, it was necessary to get Melody off once more. It was that, or have her still dripping during her annual physical at the doctor office later. Having stuffed my vibrator deep inside my soaked depths, I'd slipped into a thong to keep it in there, and set the sex toy from stun to overkill. Once my face had been buried in Melody's sweet cunt, with my tongue diving straight for her pussy's panic buttons, I'd turned on the purple-pussy-pleaser inside me. I think Melody's spasming orgasm had held out after my own exploded, by whole two seconds. After a necessarily-brief afterglow, we'd gone down for breakfast. From there, Melody had gone for her physical, while I'd hit the rec center's pool. For myself, yesterday afternoon, through to the better part of this afternoon had already been quite . . . eventful, to say the least. I had more than just a feeling, that tonight was going to be no less so. Slipping my bare feet in runners, I grabbed my babysitting kit and my best friend's orange schoolbag, and followed Melody along the orphanage's second floor hallway. Descending the stairs and turning into the kitchen, a slightly plump, grey-haired woman in a frock dress and apron turned from the stove, loudly gasping as she clutched both hands to her ample bosom. "Blessed be the archangel Micheal himself," Sister Josephina exclaimed in wonder. "Child, how is it possible in such a gorgeous dress with no back, for you to be hiding your wings?" Melody blushed shyly. "I'm not an angel, Fina." "Well, you certainly look like a gift sent from Heaven itself," the middle-aged woman returned, then glanced at me, to which I gave a tiny nod. "Oh, we just must have photos of you for the orphanage's scrapbook. That, and without any proof, no one would believe me when I tell them, a little angel had graced our kitchen." The praise made Melody blush even brighter, and I agreed out loud that photos were an awesome idea. Upon my best friend's consent, Sister Josephina hurriedly bustled to her quarters to grab her digital camera. She's barely left, when the kitchen's back door banged opened, admitting none other that Princess herself. I guess it was too much to hope for, that my twelve-year-old nemesis could've stayed at the mall just a bit longer. "Why won't you talk with me?" Tammy cut right to the point as usual, angrily stomping over. Melody moved behind me, out of the line of fire. She'd been witness to more than a few of our spats. "Well, Princess," I pretended to inspect my red-painted fingernails curled into my palm, "for one . . . ." I casually raised a middle finger. "God, Sheila," Tammy fumed, "you can be such a stuck-up bitch sometimes!" "Me?" my slender blonde eyebrows rose. "I'm not the one who is always telling everyone how superior she is. The same people who'd you love to drop groveling at their feet, begging to be kicked and spit on like a mangy cur." Trembling with fury, Tammy glared poison-tipped daggers at me, unable to fire back for the moment. The truth hurts, especially when it's thrown in your face like a bucket of burning tar. Despite her anger, the twelve-year-old was pretty. Okay, actually Tammy was strikingly cute, with her light brown eyes, and bleached-blonde hair falling to her pert little butt. Standing as high as my chin in her tight jeans and tighter pink t-shirt, one could easily see her slender chest remained as flat as Melody's, though her hips were starting to become more noticeably feminine. While possessing a body worth showing off, she refused to wear anything but full jeans and long shirts. Never shorts, skirts, midriff shirts, or halter tops. I know why, too, after having several times caught her stepping out of the shower. With her arrogant, snobbish, in-your-face personality, Tammy could make even a devout pacifist want to grab a pipe and beat her to death. She treats everyone like dirt, struts around telling others what to do, and once even made our burly gym teacher Mr. Kraleski burst into tears. The twelve-year-old was the very definition of a self-centered bitch. And she wasn't fooling me. We were still glaring at each other, when Sister Josephina returned to the kitchen. "Oh dear! Are you two at it again?" "It's okay, Josephina," I told the ex-nun. "Tammy and I were just going to the reading room for a minute, to let you snap some pictures." I clamped a hand around the wannabe-blonde's wrist, tight enough to make her visibly wince. "Right, Tammy?" "Y-yeah," she half-whimpered in reply. I all but dragged her down the main hallway to a small room, which just held just two armchairs, a lamp, and a poor, dusty excuse for a bookshelf. Once the reading room's door was closed, I flung her wrist away like it was a dead snake. "Alright, Princess," I snarled. "What the fuck is this all about?" Rubbing her wrist, no doubt having secretly enjoyed the painful grip, the faux blonde's eyes glanced around the room. "I can't talk about it here. Meet me tonight. In the bunker." I couldn't help my eyebrows rising for a moment, then quickly narrowing in a scowl. "If it's that secretive," I told her shaking my head, making my long ponytail sway, "then I don't want anything to do with it." Moving to leave, she stepped in front of me. If it wasn't for the trace of sudden desperation in her eyes, I would've simply shoved her aside. "Please, Sheila," Tammy almost whined, "it's very important!" "Everything's 'very important' to you, Princess. It's called selfishness. Something you practically perfected. So what is it? Your slave collar wore out and you need a new one? You ran out of flea powder? Or do you need a longer reach, to pull out one of your masters' shoes embedded in your ass? Whatever it is, you can forget it. I'm not interested." "It's . . ." her voice cracked slightly, and dropped her eyes to the floor. "It's not for me. I mean, I know I'm selfish. This time it's different, honestly! It's for . . . her. She can't do it without you." Against my better judgment, I asked, "Her, who? Can't do what without me?" "Please," the twelve-year-old implored. "Just meet me in the bunker tonight, and I'll explain everything. Please?" In spite of myself, Tammy's plea made me pause. Yeah, she's a selfish little cunt, through and through. However, it did seem her intentions, for once, might actually be altruistic. The possibility of that alone was a shock. Still, suspecting duplicity in it somewhere, normally I would've just scoffed and left. If not for my intuition giving me a faint nudge. I sighed, more at myself than her. "Look, Tammy. I'm working tonight, probably till late again. If you think I'm going to bother waking your sorry, snoring ass up, just to---" "You won't have to, I promise," she said excitedly, hope now shining in her light brown eyes. "Nate and Marcus are coming over later, so I'll still be awake in the bunker, no matter how late you come back." Rolling my eyes, I bit my tongue. I've only met Nate and Marcus once, in passing, late one night when Tammy was sneaking them back out of the orphanage. The cute ten-year-old boys looked like identical twins to me, though Tammy had commented they weren't exactly identical . . . but hadn't elaborated. By the way the two boys had noticeably cringed, under something a simple as my stern look that night, obviously they and Tammy knew each other from "work." "Fine," I sighed heavily. "Thank you, Sheila," Tammy gushed as I opened the reading room's door. I paused. "One thing, Princess. I hope you're going to dye, because it certainly wouldn't be a bad thing." Seeing her shocked expression reaching up for her naturally-darker hair roots, I left with a silent snicker. Reaching the kitchen, I grinned seeing Melody's back turned to a kneeling Sister Josephina with her digital camera. The eight-year-old was playfully sticking out her tongue over a bare shoulder, briefly flashing her jade panties-clad derriere. Even though the girl knew of Sister Josephina's suspected . . . longings, neither of us had any worries about it. The middle-aged woman would sooner kill herself, than willingly hurt a child. The plumpish staff member had become something of an amateur photo-hobbyist, after I'd given her the digital camera for Christmas. Thus, we weren't above posing for the occasional improper shot, so the ex-nun would have something more than just imagination for her masturbation fantasies. After taking a few shots of Melody and I posed together, then with Sister Josephina and Melody together, I glanced at my watch. A quarter to six already. With downtown Toronto traffic on a Saturday evening, forty-five minutes should be enough. As we were about to depart, Sister Josephina stood absently rubbing her necklace's small gold cross between two fingers. It was like a few men, back when I rode the subway before getting the scooter, who use to absently fondle themselves while ogling me. The difference was, Sister Josephina fondled the tiny cross, to keep from fondling herself accidentally. "Sheila, dear, you're not thinking of taking your scooter tonight, are you?" "Well, we can't take public transit. Not if we want to be there by six-thirty." "But helmets will ruin both your hair," she pointed out, "and the thought of that beautiful dress . . . ." I shrugged a little ruefully. "It can't be helped, unfortunately. Traffic won't be more than a crawl anyways, so it'll survive." "No," she shook her grey-haired head. "The good lord hath providedth me in many a time of need, and so I shall pass on the favour of his blessing. Here," Sister Josephina pulled a set of keys from a cupboard to hold out to me. "Please, take the Christ-ler." "Fina, I can't---" "Sheila Desdemona Donnelly," she said firmly, though it wasn't her uncharacteristic tone that made me wince. "You will accept these keys, or so help me, I'll . . . I'll . . . . I don't know what I'll do, but it won't be baking cookies." "Yes, ma'am," I accepted the keys with a heartfelt smile, then hugged her. "And thank you." Leaving out through the orphanage's back door, Melody and I went to Sister Josephina's twenty-year-old, eggplant-purple minivan. Climbing into it, I felt like I should be crossing myself or something. The minivan's interior was littered with enough religious paraphernalia, it could've passed for a mobile church. As we started off, I finally understood why they sold the plastic dashboard Jesus statues. It's hard to speed, when a bearded guy in a robe keeps pointing out the back window, like he's foretelling the coming of the traffic patrol. Sister Josephina had bought the minivan right after . . . retiring from the Sisterhood. Once it was a Chrysler Voyager, but since she's owned it, the minivan has been simply the Christ-ler. The story goes the day after she'd bought it, from a disreputable used car salesman, the engine started pissing out oil. The moment she had a mechanic fix it, she floored it straight to a priest, to exorcise the salesman's lingering taint. Sure it's laughable, but since then, the minivan hasn't had so much as a backfire or flat tire. Unlike last night, the traffic was as bad as I'd expected. Melody's nerves started returning during the ride, so I had her pull out her math text book from her schoolbag, and read aloud some of the questions. It distracted her, and made me nostalgic for the days before trigonometry, calculus, and the pressures of high school. Arriving in the elitist Rosedale neighborhood, I drove through the small forest growing in the middle of the overpriced neighborhood, which isolated Carol Langdon's estate. When Melody spotted the old brick and stone mansion, I though her jaw would dislocate itself dropping so hard. Parking beside a newer silver Lexus, I slung both my knapsack and Melody's schoolbag over a shoulder and hopped out. As I walked the long way around the back of minivan, I pulled out my cell phone from its belt pouch. After checking for messages I knew I didn't have, I slipped it into my vest's side pocket coming around to the passenger side. Opening the passenger door for Melody, it took a little coaxing to get my nervous best friend out of her seat. The poor girl's heart must have been ricocheting around her flat chest like a crazed pinball. Not that I blame her. After all, this was her special night, the one the eight-year-old had been long dreaming of. Once at the mansion's front double doors, I moved to stand more than a little off to the side, casually putting my hands in my vest pockets. This way it gave Melody the spotlight, and I could intercept her if she tried to bolt. Of course, those weren't the only two reasons. Her nervousness presented me with the opportunity I'd hoped for. Very carefully, as if I stood next to a flighty deer, I withdrew a hand from the grey vest's side pocket, to hold it pressed against my hip. Easing my cell phone open, I pressed a button. The phone wasn't as expensive as some models, but right now, it would prove as priceless as I hoped this once in a lifetime moment would be. Melody rang the mansion's chiming doorbell. Almost immediately came the faint sounds of frantically running feet through the thick doors. A moment later, one of the doors swung back, to reveal eight-year-old Billy Langdon with a hand behind his back. He was dressed quite smartly in a navy blue polo shirt and khaki pressed trousers, his neat black hair combed. As the two of them stood there, not an arm's length between them, I watched puppy love strike like lightning. Cuteness couldn't even begin to describe the moment! Both were speechless for many long heartbeats, taking in the other. A warm, faint early June breeze was just enough to make Melody's auburn pageboy, and short, pleated jade dress ripple the slightest bit. Along with her pale blue eyes, and adorably-innocent face, Billy was more than just mesmerized. Melody wasn't exactly unaffected, either. Billy's dark shirt and khaki trousers emphasized his lean build, as well as the green of the eyes staring from his boyishly-handsome face. That the two of them were exactly the same height, thanks to the extra half-inch from Melody's small green pumps, only made the image all the more perfect. The universe smiled on me yet again this day, as the eight-year-olds seemed oblivious to my presence, or anything else for that matter. It was Billy who emerged from their mutual trance first, bringing his arm out from behind his back. Holding out a long stemmed red rose. Melody sucked in a little breath as her eyes widened slightly, looking at both the gorgeous rose and the nervous-looking boy, who surprisingly held the symbolic flower steady. Inside my mind, both my nightshirt-clad libido and romantic side dropped their forgotten popcorn. Pulling up their long bare legs to kneel leaning forward atop the plush couch, the pair were quivering with breathless anticipation. Behind the couch, my reincarnated mad scientist also watched seated at her plotting table, temporarily ignoring her scheming as she nervously chewed a pencil. "Um," Billy swallowed nervously, "t-this is for you, Melody. It's for wanting to tutor me, and because . . . because you're so beautiful." Melody blinked several times, then graciously accepted the rose, delicately inhaling its fragrance. "T-thank you, Billy." Then she took a small step forward, closed her eyes, and kissed him on the lips. The kiss was far longer than a normal thank you kiss. After a few stunned heartbeats, Billy closed his eyes as well, and returned the kiss. It wasn't really much more than their lips pressing firmly together, but the emotion and tenderness of it rivaled the most passionate of kisses. When they finally parted, Billy swayed slightly, blushing brighter than the rose. His blissful expression was that of wonder beyond words. Melody stood demurely, her cheeks a rosy pink. She wore a more subtle, but no less blissful, look of amazement. Collect himself, Billy stepped back and turned sideways with a sweeping gesture. "Would you, um, like to come in?" Melody nodded a trace. "I'd love to, thank you." Billy suddenly crooked his arm, offering it to her. Quickly getting over her surprise, Melody smiled slipping her arm through his. Arm in arm, the pair disappeared into the mansion together. Back in my mind, my mad scientist was yelling boo-yah as she did a victory dance. My romantic side let out an euphoric sigh, and fainted from an overdose of love. My libido fell back on the couch looking very smug, and winked knowingly at me. Turning off the cell phone's video recorder, I gave a blissful sigh myself. Never could I imagine Melody and Billy's first meeting to be so . . . so fairy tale perfect. Giving the short video a quick review, assuring myself the moment had been captured perfectly, I glanced up at the infinitely-vast universe above. "That's yet another one I owe you, big time," I whispered gratefully. In the clear sky above, the first star of the evening winked. I headed into the mansion myself, punching in the code to reset the alarm. Slipping out of my runners next to Melody's green pumps and Billy's shoes, I laid the backpacks on the floor and padded barefoot into the huge living room. No sooner had I, than a woman come out from the kitchen. Carol had mentioned earlier at the rec center, that her sister had taken Billy shopping, and was watching him until I arrived. The woman looked perhaps in sight of the big four-oh, yet gracefully so. Her denim jeans and mauve blouse went nicely with her smooth skin, and tall, trim womanly figure. Shortish raven hair haloed her beautiful face and green eyes, lending her a bit of a playful look about her. While she was clearly older by a few years than Carol, the family resemblance was still obvious. "Hello there," she greeted, offering her hand. "You must be the babysitter Cair said was coming. I'm Helen Allard, Carol's sister." I smiled shaking her hand. "Sheila Donnelly. A pleasure to meet you." "When Cair said she'd actually found someone willing to babysit Billy, I gave them five minutes, and they'd be running for the hills. Two weeks ago I looked after Billy for a night, and just about got grey hairs from it." Helen lowered her voice. "But today, he's turned one-eighty. He's back to the way he use to be. No, even better than I remember. What's your secret?" "No secret," I replied shaking my head, making my long blonde ponytail sway. "A cup of intuition, a dash of book smarts, and a whole heaping of good fortune. Billy had some issues he was going through, which like most kids, lent him to act out in frustration. After a bit of a confrontational start, we sat down and slowly began getting to the root of what was troubling him. Of course, the fact Melody was willing to tutor him, certainly played a pivotal part, too." "Cair was right. You are a brat-whisperer." I rolled my eyes. "I don't know why people call me that. I don't even know what that means." Helen smiled. "It means you have a knack for talking to brats. What you accomplished with Billy is a perfect example. Where everyone else gave up on him, you not only got through to him, but brought him back to who he use to be." "Billy did that himself. All I did was listen, give him a chance to let out what was eating him, and help him work through it himself. I can't see any of that being a special talent or anything." "Most birds are blind in the dark, but owls thrive at night." Getting her point, I smiled. "Thank you." "You're quite welcome. If you'll pardon me, though, I really should be vamoosing. I volunteer Saturday nights, teaching English literature and math in a street-youth education night program. As last week we finished Catcher in the Rye, hopefully by the time I get there, I'll have figured out what will hold their attention for another three weeks. As I'm sure you're very familiar with, young people and teenagers can be . . . quite troublesome when it comes to keeping their attention." As we started walking back towards the front doors, I grinned with a nod. "Toddler ADD in older bodies." "Exactly," Helen smiled. "Have you tried Edgar Allen Poe on them?" "You know, I haven't. That's an excellent suggestion. Unfortunately, I doubt the program's supply of literature includes any of his works." Reaching the foyer, I bent down and pulled my copy of Edgar Allen Poe's collected tales from my knapsack. "Here. Take it for as long as you need. When you're done, give it to Carol to give back to me." "Thank you very much," she gave me a grateful hug. "This will be right up their alley, so to speak. I hope I'm not taking this, while you're in the middle of a tale." "Nah. I've got it memorized. Near-eidetic memory when it comes to literature, probably as my parents were Shakespeare nuts. Poe's my favourite, and I enjoy telling his tales to kids at bedtime. It may creep some of them out, but you'd be surprised how contently they sleep afterwards. My mother use to say there was nothing like a good chill down the spine, to make one appreciate the security of a warm bed all the more. That's saying the tale doesn't make them wet the bed first." "So true," Helen laughed, and gave me another hug. "It was a great pleasure meeting you, Sheila. Perhaps sometime we could get together for coffee? It's been a long time since I've met a young person, who actually knows Poe isn't a rap-term for broke." "I'd like that," I smiled, kicking my drooling libido in the shin to behave. She disarmed the alarm. "Well, have a pleasant night. Oh, Billy's giving Melody a grand tour of the mansion. Could you tell them goodnight for me? Thanks. Night, Sheila." "Night, Helen. Take care." Locking up behind her, I carried both backpacks to the living room. Melody's rose was sitting in a gracefully-slender glass vase on the coffee table. As I stood there, I couldn't help noticing how quiet it was. As quiet as a long abandoned mouse hole. Sure, the mansion was huge, and the small labyrinth of rooms and hallways naturally blocked sounds. For that matter, the pair of eight-year-olds could be outside, on the estate's manicured grounds. Not being able to hear them, didn't automatically mean a possible problem. Still . . . . Babysitting's fourth rule of survival: silence ain't golden. It's not like I was actually worried. Both were very smart kids, and I know neither of them would deliberately get into trouble. By the same token, though, a babysitter can never assume anything, period. Just ask any emergency room doctor. As I'd been through the entire mansion last night, while searching for Carol, I didn't have much trouble navigating among the maze-like corridors. Starting with the most obvious places the two could be, I worked my way though the better part of the grand house. Upon entering the bedroom wing's hallway, I caught Melody's giggle. Instinctively, I had more than a good idea as to what could've possibly elicited it. As much as normally I'd simply let them be, they were my responsibility right now, so I had to at least check if everything was alright. And I was curious, too. Following their faint, hushed voices, my bare feet made no noise as I padded to one of the bedroom doors lining the hallway. Knowing Melody as I do, I wasn't that surprised the door had been left ajar. It was just enough for someone, like myself, to peer inside, with little chance of being caught. Peeking in, my growing suspicions were confirmed. It was one of the elegantly decorated guest bedrooms from what I could see, going by the single-sized bed, and the size of room. The room's light was on, allowing me to see everything perfectly. Especially the two kissing eight-year-olds passionately embracing, standing next to the bed. Melody was running her hands up and down Billy's back under his dark shirt, while his own hands were lovingly kneading her little ass beneath the jade dress. As I was aware both had fooled around with their former love interests, it wasn't a shock to see them doing so with each other. Even the fact they were already at it, barely having met only twenty minutes ago, wasn't that much of a shock, either. Like myself, the girl had a very health appetite for sexual pleasures, despite her young age. As for the boy . . . . Well, he was a boy. Enough said. When their lips parted for air, Billy asked in a nervous, hushed voice, "What if Sheila catches us . . . you knowing?" Melody smiled reassuringly, also keeping her voice quiet. "It's not like she hasn't seen either of us naked, or hasn't touched our privates, right?" "Yeah, but . . . ." She gave him a quick kiss. "I can tell you exactly what Sheila would say, if she caught us." "You do?" "Uh-huh. She'd say, good for you two." The adorable redhead had taken the words right out of my mouth. "You know what else, Billy?" she asked, her hands moving in-between them. "W-what's that?" his eyes were suddenly focused on her nimble fingers undoing his khaki trousers. "If Sheila did catch us," her eye momentarily caught mine peering through the crack, and winked, "then I know she couldn't interrupted us, even if she wanted to." As Billy's trousers slid down to his knees, she playfully toyed with the waistband of his black briefs, which the front of was tenting out very noticeably. "H-how do you know that, Mel?" "Simple." She eased down onto her knees on the carpeting, drawing down his briefs to join his trousers around his knees. His uncircumcised, three inch boner was literally quivering sticking straight out. Its thickness was quite respectable for an eight-year-old's cock, even if its head was near-exactly the same girth as the shaft. Not that it diminished his boyhood in the least. "Sheila couldn't interrupt us," Melody went on in a purr, admiring the one-eyed stiffie staring back at her, "as she'd be too horny seeing us. She'd stay in the hallway fingering herself, watching me suck your handsome cock." Knowing a good idea when I hear one, I got down on my knees myself, and unfastened my jeans just enough to slide both hands inside. Immediately my fingers found both my already-dripping, shaved vulva, and my swelling clit beginning to peek from beneath its hood. An advantage to being a near-nymphomaniac, is the ability to frig on a dime, and get change back. Billy's eyes widened. "You mean she'd . . . . Wait, you're really going to--- Ooh! Ooooh . . . ." Melody had gently encircled the base of Billy's hairless boner behind the balls with a thumb and forefinger, and gave the exposed head a wet kiss, before slowly dragging her tongue up along the length of its sensitive underside. The trembling boy leaned back slightly as his eyes closed, the feel of her wet tongue on his cock surely beyond anything he could've imagined. As she kept playfully, yet lovingly, teasing with her tongue, I noted her fingers ringing his root were subtly applying a light squeeze now and then, as did her other hand now fondling his little nutsack. I'd kept my promise to Billy that I wouldn't tell anyone about is premature ejaculation troubles. Instead, I'd simply mentioned to my best friend a few methods to help delay a boy's climax. After all, young boys often couldn't help being a little trigger-happy. Especially their first time actually being fully intimate with someone. Just when I thought poor Billy couldn't be any further aroused by Melody's tantalizing tongue, she slowly began pushing her tight lips down around the fleshy rod, engulfing his three rock-hard inches of boyhood in her hot mouth. As his eyes flew open with a gasp, he rose up on his socked tiptoes, a faint squeak coming from his gaping jaws. Then Melody started suckling on his boy-meat, easing her mouth back and forth as she did. Young Billy's eyes nearly crossed themselves as they closed again. If it wasn't for Melody's fingers around his boner's root and balls, and the grip of her wet mouth and tongue, no doubt his straining body would've fallen over in his bliss. As if realizing that himself, or simply acting on instinct, his hands began affectionately stroking the silky hair of her auburn pageboy. Already on my third climax from fingering myself kneeling in the hallway, my heart doubly swelled with pride. Seeing how I've sucked, blown, and licked countless cocks for the past twelve of my sixteen years, one could say I knew a thing or two about working a meat stick. While I'd given Melody a few tips and tricks, it was clear she was a natural cocksucker, just as she was a natural pussylicker. The fact this was her first time sucking a real cock, made it all the more incredible. I couldn't be more proud of my baby sister, even if we'd been biological siblings. I was also extremely impressed with Billy, too. I don't know how long she'd been sucking his cock, but he still hadn't cummed. His furrowing brow spoke to how he was mentally struggling to hold his orgasm at bay, for her sake as much as his. Despite the assistance of her delaying tactics, it had to be nearing a herculean effort for him by now. However, no amount of willpower could keep chained forever, the most basic of the male species' drives: to cede their life-giving semen, by expelling it with explosive force from their manhood. Billy was no exception to this, even though his prepubescent testicles had yet to start producing any seed. I'd say by his straining expression, those restraining chains were now snapping fast and furiously. "Ooooh god," Billy shuddered. "I-I'm gonna cum, Mel! I can't stop it!" Melody's reply was to grab his bare ass in both hands, and begin frenziedly pumping her mouth up and down on his throbbing cock, matching his hips' instinctive thrusting. The effect would surely make Billy's impending orgasm at least double in intensity, if not triple factoring in his obvious strong feelings for her. With a wordless cry of ecstasy, Billy dry-cummed in Melody's humping mouth. Almost simultaneously, my pussy exploded around my rubbing fingers, drenching my thong and jeans crotch. As Melody was aware of a boy's sensitivity after cumming, she gently eased her mouth from his cock. Billy, supported by her hands on his naked ass, sank somewhat unsteadily to join her kneeling face to face on the carpet. From Billy I expected a stunned silence, or even possibly a quip. Instead, he suddenly threw his arms around Melody and kissed her passionately, which a heartbeat later she eagerly returned in kind. Where some boys would balk at kissing the mouth that had just been wrapped around their cock, Billy wasn't among them. My respect for him went up yet another notch. Finally parting for air, the two eight-year-old smiled a little shyly at each other, kneeling together holding hands. It was a perfect cover shot for an old nineteen-fifties Life magazine, if Billy's trousers hadn't still been around his knees. "Melody?" "Yes, Billy?" "May I . . . may I return the favour?" Her smile grew. "You mean, you want to eat my pussy?" "More than life itself." My heart skipped a beat. Of all the comebacks possible, that one had to be the absolute corniest. And the most romantically perfect, too. "I'd love you to, Billy." Rising, Melody lifted the pleated jade dress up around her slender midriff, revealing a matching pair of panties, which the crotch of was already near-sodden from her arousal. With a little backwards jump, her cute derriere landed perfectly on the edge of the bed. Laying back to look down over her body, now exposed from the waist down, she grinned playfully waving the toes of a bare foot at him. I couldn't help grinning as Billy's boner instantly sprang back to life. Shuffling forward on his knees, which dragged his trousers and briefs to his ankles, Billy knelt before the bed humbly taking in Melody's wet panties, and the wetter pussy they clung to. Melody moaned hungrily as he began tracing his fingers along her spread inner thighs, no doubt having read that trick in his father's sex book. Reaching her jade panties, he tentatively hooked his fingers in the sides of the silky waistband, and started slowly drawing them down. Melody stopped him at mid-thigh. Lithely she worked a sleek leg up and back, easing it from the held panties. Once free, her bare leg and foot affectionately caressed his cheek before spreading herself wider for him. The panties were left forgotten around the one thigh, as Billy's amazement at the seductiveness of her trick, was replaced by an even greater awe. Beholding the most intimate of the eight-year-old redhead's treasures. Her hairless pussy glistened moistly, eagerly awaiting his attentions. Even from my angle, I could see the tiny clit poking from between her reddish, swollen lips. She let him stare, his look of wonder and fascination surely arousing her more. While I had Billy go down on me last night, it had been to instruct the cute boy in how to do it, and give some basic pointers. Now this was Billy's moment of truth. In my suspense, I actually paused in my frigging, barely realizing I was holding my breath. Then the clever boy threw my expectations yet another slight curve ball. Fondly stroking Melody's naked legs, he bent to start licking along each inner thigh, causing her to toss her head back with a loud, rapturous moan. Alternating between thighs, Billy slowly, and oh so teasingly, worked closer to her begging cunt. I'm surprised the two kids couldn't hear my libido and romantic side's girlish screams of delight at this twist. I know for certain Melody is worked up enough already, that she won't last long before cumming. But to add in her prepubescent lover's playfully-sweet teasing, which would only further stoke the raging fire in her bare loins . . . . Holding her legs up now, Billy's hot mouth crawled nearer to its ultimate goal. Melody began thrashing her head side to side and clutching the bedsheets in her lust. She begged him to eat her out right now, but to no avail. His lapping tongue continued its own torturous pace, inch by tantalizing inch. Suddenly Melody cried out loudly, giving a shuddering jerk atop the bed. Though Billy's head was blocking my view, I knew from experience his face had just gotten a dousing of hot girl-cum. My own pussy gushed in sympathy around my furiously-rubbing fingers, soaking my jeans crotch even more. Billy paused out of surprise for barely a heartbeat, then resumed his tongue's trek along the thighs' smooth, and now wet flesh. As he did, he lowered her legs to his shoulders, freeing his hands. I couldn't see where his far hand went, but by Melody's sharp gasp of bliss, it likely had come around to find her hairless pussy's hood. By tenderly tugging it back, her wet, engorged clit would've been suddenly exposed to the bedroom's cooler air. At the same time, his other hand slid itself partly under her adorable buttocks, no doubt easing a probing finger inside her eager depths. Now more than ever, I was grateful for explaining in detail to him last night, about her intact hymen. "Oh fuck yes," Melody abruptly screamed in ecstasy, her petite bottom rising off the bed for a moment. Yeah, I'd say Billy's tongue just found the bullseye. As the boy enthusiastically went to town tonguing and fingering the bald cunt, Melody was clawing the bed like a little tigress in heat. She was alternating between everything from euphoric moaning and mewling whimpers, to sharp gasps and screaming cries. Her climaxes must have been coming so closely together, they'd almost seem like one long, fluctuating one to her. Then Melody's bare legs suddenly scissored themselves behind Billy's neck, as her hands gripped his head, like she was trying to bury his face even deeper into her pussy. "I'm cumming, Billy! I'm cumming," she cried desperately, her entire body spasming around his trapped face. The sight of my baby sister in the wild throes of her orgasm, and Billy's untouched boner jerking in its second dry-orgasm, sent me over the edge. My clenching pussy and thighs crushed my hands, as yet more of my juices exploded into my thong and jeans. The pair would've surely heard my high-pitched squeal, if not for Melody's loud, rapturous sobbing. Melody finally collapsed panting, spent from the intensity of her "big Oh." When her limp limbs fell away, it revealed a kneeling Billy with a face dripping with girl-cum, at the moment looking more than merely awestruck. As I withdrew my soaked fingers to do up my jeans, Billy got up to carefully shuffle to the bed, his trousers and briefs still around his ankles. Laying down on Melody's far side, he propped himself up to brush stray, damp strands of auburn hair from her forehead, then tenderly kissed her. Melody kissed him back, then suddenly giggled. Eyebrows rising, Billy seemed about ask why, when she began playfully swiping his face with her tongue, lapping up the sweet cum her explosive orgasm had coated his face with. A dull thud echoed through my mind, as again my romantic side fainted from another overdose of love. For a few stunned moments, Billy simply blinked, as his new girlfriend's tongue lapped his cute face. Then he started eagerly licking her adorable face in return. Now that's puppy love! I couldn't tell who started it, but moments later the two eight-year-olds with their privates bared, were rolling around on the bed, as well as over each other, shrieking in uncontrollable laughter. The Tickle Wars were on. I was smiling both in amusement and pride, as my slick fingers finally managed to fasten my jeans. Even through their peals of childish laughing could drown out a bulldozer demolishing the mansion, I was as quiet as possible retreating on bare feet. Once out of the bedroom wing, I headed for the living room first. As soon as I slipped into a fresh thong and jeans without drenched crotches, it was off to the kitchen. Last night I'd seen the fixings for a large homemade pizza, which would be perfect. Few if any kids would turn down pizza for supper. As well, it wouldn't only help replenish their enjoyably-spent energy, but add some more to their reserves. After all, the night was still young.