Chapter 1

This was to be my second summer as babysitter, mother's helper and what-have-you for the Wells family. An entire summer at their beach home. There was Mimi, the mother, Gus, a dreamboat of a guy, and their two children, Percy and Cindy. The job, the children, and even Mimi, were all secondary in my thoughts. Two things-being free of my mother and the city all summer, and being in the same house with Gus Wells-were foremost in my mind. At sixteen, I had spent a good many nights of the past winter masturbating myself while picturing Gus Wells's deeply tanned, rock-hard body fucking into me. Not that he had the summer before, but I can dream, can't I? Besides, I was a kid the previous summer. A kid and a virgin.

This summer I had a three months' supply of birth control pills. This summer I was a woman!

The train had arrived just a half-hour late, and the entire Wells family had met me at the station, driven me home and deposited me in the same beautiful room I had had the summer before. And then, wouldn't you know, it was Gus Wells who suggested we all go down to the beach for a quick dip.

I had come prepared for just that. I had bought a next-to-nothing bikini for just this occasion, anxious to see Gus's eyes when he saw me in it and realized how I'd developed. The summer before he had hardly noticed me. He was twenty years older than me, but God! I dug his dark hair and handsome face-and groovy body.

It was dark when we got back from the beach. The kids were sleeping on the back seat. I carried Percy in on my shoulder, and Gus carried Cindy.

The nights close to the ocean are usually very cool, regardless of how hot the days are. This night was no exception, and I shivered in my wet bathing suit at the touch of the wind.

I carried Percy to his room and placed him in a sleeping ball on his bed. "I'll undress him," Mimi offered. "Why don't you take your shower and get to sleep? You must be exhausted."

I didn't give her an argument. My body felt drained, as though the heat of the sun and the pounding of the surf had somehow combined to siphon off my enthusiasm. I could still feel the ebb and the flow of the ocean's tides in my muscles, and the floor beneath my feet seemed to bob up and down.

I showered quickly, enjoying the icy prickling the tiny needles of water made against my exhausted flesh. I left the shower feeling refreshed and revived. I stood on the damp tile floor and rubbed a fluffy terry towel over my skin, ostensibly drying it, yet oddly awakening it in a smoldering fire.

I rubbed the towel between my legs, relishing the soft pressure of my hand against my flesh. The edge of the towel slipped between my cunt lips, and I felt an unexpected shudder flutter down my legs. I cupped the towel against the mound of my cunt, holding it firmly in my hand.

On the bathroom door was a full-length mirror, and I found myself fascinated at my reflection. My long dark hair was wet, and it hung straight down over my shoulders like thick black lines. My breasts were firm and solid; heavy but not sagging. I could see the creamy whiteness near the tips, where my tan ended. My nipples were erect and red-brown; bubbles of water beaded against my flesh. The overhead light caught the bubbles and made them dance like diamonds decorating my tits.

My waist was slim and flat-so small that it made my breasts appear larger than they actually were. My hips flared out nicely, but not yet fully rounded. A few more years would fill them out in ripe, mature curves. But there was enough there to assure me of the promise of things to come. My arm and hand cut across my stomach like a diagonal line, with the white folds of the towel draped down between my open legs. I could just see a few dark hairs near the edge of my cunt, curling out from under the towel.

I dropped the towel and moved my hand to the side. Involuntarily, my breath sucked inward at the sight. The mound of my cunt was broad and wide, heavily covered with thick brown hair that now looked black from the shower. The sight pleased and excited me. I don't know whether it was because I developed late, or whether my awareness of my own body and what was happening to it had been blunted by so many years of sleeping adolescence. It was as though, one day, I looked into the mirror and saw I was no longer a child. The reflection-the body of a woman-stared back out at me. I could never quite get over the fact that the person I was looking at was me, and that body-that ripe, full body-was mine, I had to touch myself just to make sure that I was real.

I brought my hand back to my cunt. The hair was damp, the flesh moist and clammy. I put my index and middle fingers together and placed them just above the inward curve of the mound, in the middle of my cunt. I began to slowly rotate the fingers, sending slow throbs of excitement into the sleepy thickness of my body. The sight thrilled me almost as much as what I was doing. I watched in the mirror as my hand moved against my cunt, barely slipping the tips of each finger into the wet slit between the lips and touching the bud of my clitoris just enough to activate a burning warmth that made my knees tremble.

I began to rotate my hips, pushing my cunt up against the moving fingers. I saw my hips pumping in and out in the mirror. My stomach muscles undulated; my tits jiggled just enough to disturb the beads of moisture gathered there, causing them to lose their consistency so that they spilled over, sending trickles of cold water down across the burning flesh of my tits.

I stood like that, in the middle of the floor, staring at my erotic reflection for perhaps twenty seconds before I noticed the hamper in the far corner of the bathroom. A shiver of excitement went through my body at the idea. I had to pull my hand from my cunt to initiate the idea: the thought was almost as exciting as the reality would prove to be.

I opened the top of the hamper and looked in. The mildewed odor of damp, musky clothing filled my nostrils. I sorted selectively through the dirty, discarded clothing, feeling my excitement building as though I were still masturbating myself. Finally I found what I wanted, and I pulled them from the pile. It was a pair of Gus's undershorts.

I put the white garment up to my nose and inhaled deeply. I could smell the pungent sweatiness of his body.

I rubbed that material over my breasts, and my nipples tingled with the contact. I held the shorts tightly in my hand, sliding them down my body until they rubbed between my legs, up against my cunt. I held the precious white garment against me, masturbating myself with it. I was using Gus's undershorts under my fingers, rubbing them against my clitoris in rapid strokes of pleasure.

Sexual excitement flushed throughout my body like an odd cold sweat. It would take me only a matter of moments to come. My head spun with the thought-my cunt was pressed against the very spot where Gus's balls and cock had been. The day he wore the shorts, did he have a hard-on? Did he come in the shorts? Did he stick his erect cock through the opening and fuck Mimi while he was wearing them? The ideas drove me wild with excitement.

A knock on the door!

"Are you going to be long?"

I dropped the shorts as though they were contaminated. I recognized the voice calling to me through the door-it was Gus.

"No-o!" I stuttered, shaken. "I'm almost dry. I'll be out in a moment."

Panic seized me for the moment, and I felt my sexual arousal dissipate as suddenly as it had grown. I dashed over to the hamper with the damning evidence balled up in my hands. I was going to stuff the shorts back into the pile, hiding them back among the other dirty clothes, and covering over my moment of weakness.

But something made me stop. A new feeling came over me: a calmness. I felt confident and relaxed.

I took the shorts over to the sink-top and wrapped them carefully in my bath towel. Then I slipped my robe on and tied it firmly against my naked body. I picked the towel up and walked very calmly over to the door and opened it. Gus was standing there, waiting.

He smiled back at me; for a moment, a flutter of panic raced through me. I was almost sure that he knew. There was something about the strange and sensual way he looked at me.

I yawned. The yawn came out stiff and false. "Gee, I'm tired," I said, covering my yawn. "I guess I'll get to bed now."

"Good idea," Gus said. "Good night, Tootsie. Sleep tight."

"Thank you," I answered, clutching the towel to my breasts. "Good night, Gus."

I closed the door. I was alone in my bedroom. I threw the towel down on the bed, and the shorts unrolled and came to rest on my pillow. Sleep tight, I thought, giggling.