Steve Golden: Suck hot sitter

Stacy Burns stood in the doorway dressed in white knee socks, a white blouse, and a navy-blue skirt that barely covered her crotch. Her blonde hair was tied up in two bunches on each side of her head, and there wasn't a trace of make-up on her gorgeous freckled face. She smiled brightly, anxious to please her new employer.

"You must be Stacy, the babysitter," Sam Caldicott grinned, ushering her into his luxury townhouse. "You're right on time. I like that. We're going to get along very well, you and I."

He led her down a hallway and into a brightly lit living room. But it wasn't furnished like a living room at all, Stacy noticed. There was very little furniture in it, just a couch and a chair and a large covered bed. There was a set of floor-length windows that angled up into the ceiling like a skylight. And there were cameras and tripods everywhere.

"What a place," Stacy muttered, gazing at the view over the park. "Have you and your wife lived here long?"

"My wife and I are no longer living together," Caldicott admitted. "As a matter of fact, she left me over a year ago. I'm all alone here now."

"You are? Then what about the baby? Who am I supposed to babysit?" Stacy asked. She stared at him with her big blue eyes. She wrinkled her nose prettily.

For a moment, he didn't say anything. His gaze traveled from her lovely face to the promising swell of her tits against her crisp white blouse. Then he looked lower, at the ridiculously short blue skirt and all the slender brown thigh on display for him. She really had beautiful legs, he thought, trim and perfectly shaped. She was a great example of healthy teenage girlhood.

"Sit down and I'll explain exactly what I want you to do for me," he soothed. "If you don't want to do it fine. I'll pay you your babysitting fee and you can go home. Okay?"

Stacy looked at him suspiciously, but she sat down and prepared to listen. She tried to recall what she knew of Mr. Sam Caldicott, and she realized that she didn't really know anything at all. He had called up for the first time the previous afternoon, asking for a babysitter for four in the afternoon. It had never occurred to her that he was anything but a happily married family man.

"I think you're one of the most beautiful young girls I've ever seen," he said. "I've been watching you for weeks. And I want to take some photographs of you. It's that simple. Whatever your normal babysitting fee is, I'll pay you three times that."

Stacy blushed, then immediately grew suspicious. She quickly calculated what three times her normal fee would be. She'd had her eye on a new party dress for some time now, and one afternoon with Mr. Caldicott would mean she could nearly afford it. She tried to hide her excitement as she looked him directly in the eye.

"What kind of photographs?" she asked. "What would I have to do?"

"I'll show you. Stand in front of this wall. Just relax and look natural."

Before Stacy could protest, he had taken her by the hand and led her to a white wall that was bright with light from the windows. He placed her where he wanted her and then moved back to look into a camera he already had set up on a tripod. He began clicking before Stacy had any time to prepare herself.

"I wasn't ready!" she complained. But he ignored her and went right on clicking the camera.

"Just look natural like that. Perfect!" he encouraged. "You don't have to pose for me. Just be yourself."

Stacy did her best, but she really didn't feel very natural in front of him and his camera. He seemed pleased with the stuff he was getting, though, and he kept yelling encouragement at her. In a matter of minutes, she was having fun, and she found herself relaxing more and more. That was when he asked her to open up the buttons on her blouse.

"My buttons?" she asked, her suspicions returning for the first time in a while.

"Just the top few. So that I can get a shot or two of how well-formed your breasts are. A little cleavage never hurt anyone."

A small warning voice was calling in Stacy's head, but she ignored it and thought about the pretty outfit she was going to buy. Her fingers fumbled with the top two buttons of her blouse and she finally got them open. She blushed and looked at Caldicott shyly.

"Open up two or three more. Let me get a good look at the tops of your pretty titties," he coaxed. "Don't be shy. You're a beautiful young woman."

"But you'll be able to see my bra and everything!''

"That's okay. I know what I'm doing."

Reluctantly, Stacy opened up two more buttons on her blouse. And then a third. The garment was now open to her navel, and the cups of her white lace bra were visible. Her ripe young tits oozed over the harness in creamy bulging mounds. Caldicott's camera whirred and snapped.

"Beautiful tits," he muttered under his breath. "Gorgeous, stunning tits." He was working behind his camera like a real professional.

Stacy found herself turning from side to side without being told, so that her tits could be seen in profile swelling against her blouse. Her movements were a bit clumsy, but he didn't seem to mind. He kept voicing his encouragement and telling her she was wonderful and gorgeous. She began to relax again as he praised her. He reminded her of one of her favorite teachers. His interest in her really was very flattering.

"I want you to unbutton your blouse all the way now, Stacy," he went on. "Pull it out of your skirt and peel it back. I want to see how pretty your titties are in their lacy white bra."

Stacy opened her mouth to protest. She wanted to say that this had gone far enough. But he was so nice. And he really did seem interested only in how beautiful she was. There was no harm in going a little further, surely. He was keeping his distance. He wasn't going to jump on her or attack her or anything.

Her fingers undid the last couple of buttons on her blouse, and she did as he instructed, tugging the garment out of her skirt and peeling it back over her hips. Her enormous young tits strained out over the cups of her bra. They were golden-brown and lush, the firm young tits of a teenager just grown into a woman. Through the sheer material, the dark circles of her areolas and the stubs of her nipples were visible.

"Beautiful! Gorgeous!" he praised, still clicking his camera. "Just how big are those things, sweetheart?"

"Thirty-eight inches," Stacy said proudly.

"It's hard to believe you have tits so big. You're so slender everywhere else," he smiled.

He took time out from his photography to gaze at the tits straining and bulging over her flimsy bra. The harness looked like it would snap from the weight of them any second. Her rib cage tapered down to her tiny waist. Her belly was flat and golden-brown. He could see her navel just above the top of her dark-blue skirt.

"Why don't you unhook the bra and let me see your tits properly," he went on, trying to keep his voice steady. "Cover both tits with your hands and show them one at a time. Give me lots of teasing, little-girl looks."

Stacy didn't move. This was wrong. She shouldn't be doing this. The photographs were getting dirtier and dirtier. What if he showed them to someone else? What if they fell into the hands of her parents, or her teachers? She should stop right now and tell him she didn't want to go any further. She should leave and tell Mr. Sam Caldicott to find another model for his dirty pictures.

"Mr. Caldicott, I don't think I should be doing this," she muttered, feeling childish and silly. "This isn't right. It's dirty."

"Dirty? 'What's dirty about a pair of beautiful teenage tits? You ought to be proud of them! You should want to show them off!"