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Minding Bobby’s Business (Part 1?)

4308 Words | 2 |1.63

I babysat him until he was almost 11. A little too old to need me to keep him out of trouble, but it was good money for a while…

I walked him home from school, and he was wired the whole way. Running ahead, then back. Running his motormouth, while I just carried his backpack.

“Watch out for the street!” He just stopped, and hit the button.

“Hurry hurry, before it changes back!” Bouncing like a pogo stick.

“It’s just changing now.” Honestly, it’s not like we didn’t cross here every day, but he was practically running in place. Sure enough, we made it before the cars took off again, but right in the door. I handed him the bookbag, and took off my own.

He stretched, “YEARGH!” Big fake yawn, but he said he was “Too sleepy.” Then ran off to his room, “I’m gonna take a nap!”

Yeah right, the little fibber just wanted to get out of doing homework, so I did mine first. Honestly, you had to give him a pill just to get him to go to sleep at night. He hasn’t taken a nap since he was.

I don’t know, a lot younger. “Uh!” I rubbed my head.

[60 {1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, } “Uh,” 7, and 7 is 49, which leaves. 21? That can’t be right, 7 times 8 is 56, which just leaves 4. 8? No, that just leaves 4 again. 9? Get out the calculator.

[60/9= 6.666666…]

[, 10, 12?] “Yeah, 12×5. Simple. Fifteen? Times Four. Yeah.” {, 15, 30, 60.}]

“Huh!” Rub my eyes, and look back at the quiz.

[72] “Uh!”

So, that distracted me for a while, until I had to go see what he was doing in there. Make him sit still for a minute. I know, he’s ADHD, and he’s been sitting still all day, but he sure is quiet in there.

“HUH!” I held his bookbag up like a shield. “Robert! Put that away, and pull up your pants.” I turned, and waited for him. “I, it’s. Time for your homework. If you’re not done before your dad gets home…”

“Don’t tell him.” I swallowed, but. Honestly, I hadn’t seen him naked since. Well, he just pulled his shirt up, and his pants down, so he wasn’t technically naked. He was still wearing his socks, for God’s sake.

“Huh, now. Bobby, sit down.” He stopped holding his pants in the back. Protectively, but at least he wasn’t pitching a tent. “Uh!” I rolled my eyes, just to look away from his crotch. “You might want to talk to him. About. That. Later.”

He nodded, “He told me, if you shake it more than twice, you’re playing with it.”

“Uh!” That sounds like him. Or rather his grandfather’s old saying. My daddy always said…

“Huh, okay.” How do I put this. “What you’re doing wasn’t wrong. Per se, you don’t have to be ashamed of it, but. You’re doing it wrong.” I shook my head, biting my lip, and trying not to grin. My face burning up to my ears, and starting to smolder down my collar, so I loosened it.

“Lots of boys do it like this.” I saw the motion through the corner of my eyes, but I unzipped his bookbag, and got out his workbooks.

“Well,” [4:39] “We don’t have much time, so we’ll talk about this later.” I felt down the edge of Social Studies, and pinched the paperclip. His teacher left, and rubbed it with my finger. The hard little nub, almost hidden between the folds, and. “You better start with the reading, while I.”

Go to the bathroom. He looked up, and nodded. From my chest, I. “Huh, huh!” Just leaned back up against the door, but it wasn’t just his eyes on me. His little thumb pushing it down, so it slipped off, and sprang up. Shaking at least three times when he bent over to pull up his pants. Dropped his shirt, but it wasn’t hard to imagine his little hands. Tiny fingers untucking my shirt.

“Hhuh! Huh?” I can’t believe this. Get ahold of yourself, it’s not like you’ve never seen a dick before. Hell, I’d seen his dick right over there, in the tub. When he was little, and damnit, he’s only 11.

I’m not. A. Pword, am I? I don’t even want to think about it, but he doesn’t even have hair on it yet. He knows full well how to beat off, and even if he did get his curious little hands up my skirt. Touched my panties. “HhuhHhuh!”

He knocked. “Just a minute!”

“I finished the reading. What’s a Fife?”

“Uh,” I pulled out some toilet paper. “I think it’s a kind of flute. They play with a drum. You know in the Revolutionary war?” I whistled “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” real quick. “Dixie” would have been Civil War, and I don’t remember if they still did Fife, and Drum then.

“We’re not up to that part, we’re still back in merry olde England. Kings, and queens, and chess stuff.” Chess was his favorite game, one of the few things he could sit still for.

“Huh!” I tried to wipe, but it was dry, and I brushed my hard-in, by accident. Threw it in the toilet, and flushed anyway. Washed my hands, and wiped the sweaty bangs off my forehead.

“Let me see.” I took him back, by the hand, but I held his hand all the time. At least I used to, before he got too strong to hold back, but at least he didn’t run right out in the street. As many times as he scared me, he stopped on a dime before they slammed on the brakes, squealing to a halt.

“Let me see.” I ran my finger down the chart of Vocabulary words, on the margin. “It says it right here.” I tapped it, and turned it around to let him read.

“Prop, er, tee. Granted by a lord to his vas. Vas-alls?” He looked up.

“That should be down lower.” I slipped my finger down past Feifdom: “Uhn!”

My fingernail tapped the paper, like a little boner trying to beat it’s way out of a zipper. It’s not just a dick, though. I did walk in on him, in his own room, and he’s probably going to start puberty soon. So, he doesn’t need me to babysit him any more, but…

{Vassal: Subjects of a Lord, or a Lord’s. Reta, reta’ners?”

“Retainers. Those are the paid servants, like the Sherriff of Nottingham?”

“Like Robin Hood?”


“So, Robin Hood was a vassal?”

“I don’t know. Nobody knew who he was. Honestly, if they did, then he wouldn’t have gotten away with it. They would have sent men to his house, to get him.”

“Oh yeah. He was a criminal, huh?”

“Mhn?” What I need is a good defense. Because I’m feeling like a Criminal. And I need to be redeemed to the one I sinned against. Because he’s all I’ve ever known of. “A, uh. I? Okay, so what’s the question?” I turned it back around.


“Thanks,” I tucked the money in the front pocket of my bag, across my lap. “Uhm, don’t you think he’s getting a little to old for a sitter?”

“You’re really more of a tutor at this point.” He backed out, and put it in Drive. “It’s going to be impossible to get someone else up to speed, on his.” Behavior problems. “Special needs, so you’ll have to finish out the week.”

“Well, it’s just one more day, but is there any chance I can leave early?”

“What for?”

“Once he passes out, he doesn’t Need. Nmh? I have a date.”

“Oh,” he signaled, and checked his blind spot, pulling over to the turn lane, and rolling right through the protected right.

He has needs now. Special ones. He needs, me too…

“Who’s the lucky guy?” The turn signal stopped clicking, so there’s that distraction out the window. I rolled mine down, just for some fresh air.

“Oh, just a boy, at school. You probably don’t know him.”

“Well, I’m sorry to lose you, but I understand. You’re growing up, so you have to move on with your life…” Blah blah, yadda yadda, cliche’ cliche’. I just nodded, and looked out the window. Tried to follow the lights going past, too fast to see, but just take out the blur.

What if he gets boners in his sleep? Does he dream about me? “Huh!” My bra feels tight, and hot, and my panties were dry when I left. I crossed my legs anyways, and held my bag, but I guess.

I didn’t realize it, but my dad. He got these paperbacks, from somewhere. He hid them, but they’re not like novels. More like a collection of short stories, but the pages are so cheap. The ink rubs off, or runs if they get wet. Sometimes they stick together, like wet newspaper, or those school papers with the dotted lines across them.
– – – – – – – –
I couldn’t wait to get home, all my clothes off, and even my hair stank like a greyhound station restroom? “Snh?” No wait, they had those air fresheners, and blue water. Pinesol, and Bleach. “SNHHHHHHH!”

I got on the computer, and checked my messages first. My Email. Dad’s in bed, with mom. So, there’s no way to pull one of those dirty story books out from under him, and that’s if he’s not rocking a hard. Cock.

[How’s this?

Photo Attached:]

“Huh!” I typed back:

[To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Hey,


U ever shave your pubes?]


“Huh!” I always thought they looked funny. Hard, or soft, but also hairy. Big, hard, and hairy, with a little drop clinging to the end. Gripping it so tight that the pink head started turning purple, but the dark curls around it.

Somehow, that. Feeling of paper, not just any paper, but that cheap paper. Okay, cheap ink, and the dried stains from handling it with wet fingers. Sticky fingers, and all the stories of adults. Doing adult things.

That was a turn-on before, but the guys never really talked about their pubes, foreskins, or the smells. “Snh! Huh.” There must have been someone in there, before me. I just went into the restroom, but she left something hanging in the air. It wasn’t pee. “Snh, huh!”

Mostly just inches, and cup sizes. 6 inches, double Ds. So many stories, illicit encounters, in public bathrooms. Back alleys, trains, busses, strangers meeting, and feeling an instant attraction. Then, a fast brief, intense quickie, before somebody walked in on them, and caught them.

So, I slipped my fingertips down to the folds, then back up, damp enough to find the little nub, and just brush it with my fingerprints.

“Hhuh huh huh huhuhuh! HUH! UHHHHHH!”


I know I have a 1 track mind, and that’s how Bobby beat me at chess. He could look all over the board, and not only think a couple moves ahead, but for several pieces at a time. I, on the other hand, had a plan. That falls apart, when he figures it out, and.

Maybe that’s it, he can think about what I’m gonna do, and what he’s gonna do, at the same time. I tried that, but then I forget what I’m doing, and whatever. Thinking about chess isn’t thinking about pre-algebra, and I got the factors of 60 wrong.

The teacher drew a line back, and wrote in 20. “Of course.” Duh, I forgot the trick where you go back to the Prime factors, and divide by the number. 60/3=20. I skipped right to 30 without checking my own work, because I can’t think like a teacher, and a student at the same time.

“You’re really more like a tutor, at this point.” My problem is I can’t think like a tutor, and a babysitter at the same time. So, when I starting to want a different kind of relationship. A sexual relationship, but I love him.

Okay, at first I loved him like my little brother. They were friends in elementary school, and they had a falling out, but that reminds me, again. What he looked like when we first met, that blue, and white turtleneck he was wearing, and he smiled at me.

I don’t know what they fought about, but my brother didn’t want to talk about it. I went over to ask Bobby, but he just called my brother names, and I wanted to stick up for him, but then his dad. He’s a single father, of an only child, and a latchkey boy, because his father has to work, but I can’t help jumping around, when I’m trying to avoid something:

I just keep skipping back to the fact that I can’t be his babysitter any more, or help him with his homework, because my feelings have changed, and he’s started growing into a sexy little boy. “Ugh!”

“Darline, are you all right?”

“Fine?” I patted my chest. “I think it’s just gas.”

“Well try to keep it down. Now.” She turned back to the board, “Factors…”

It’s not helping with algebra, but I can feel my heart. Between the valley of my bra cups, which just makes them feel tight, and sweaty again. So, I want to take them off, and he noticed. That guilty look on his face, when he looked up from my chest, to my eyes. He didn’t smile, because he got caught in the act, but yeah.

I know exactly who he was thinking about in his room. Taking a nep, he wasn’t in there to avoid homework. He went in there to play with himself. “Huh!” Now the heat is trickling down my tummy, and starting to leak out of my. “Uh!” I raised my hand. “I think I have to puke.” I ran out, before he could even get me a hall pass, because I was afraid of anyone, and everyone around me smelling the problem.

“Fuck,” I’m soaked. “Huh, fuck!” In the restroom, I didn’t even think about that, because the excuse was that I had to puke, and where else am I going to go? But now that my panties are down, I get a little thrill out of thinking that after I’m gone. I’m probably going to leave that behind, hanging in the air for the next girl to smell, and probably not even think about it.

It’s pretty subtle, lingering under the strong fragrances all shouting over each other for your attention. The soap, disinfectant, hand sanitizer, whatever they use to make the water blue, and. “Huhuhuhuhuh!”

It’s weird, how certain things aren’t even sexy. Until your brain starts to associate them with it, like the cheap paper. Reading a book, a dirty little paperback, with some of the pages stuck together, with my father’s thumb print, sticky with his.

Maybe I’m imagining it. The smell at the bus station. Maybe someone was in there masturbating, and maybe she smuggled a boy in to screw, somehow. Without getting caught, but that was just a story I read. They met on the bus, and barely learned each other’s names, but the lavatory on the bus was too small. Too dirty, honestly. So when they pulled into the station, in the middle of the night, they had to go to the men’s room.

I finished, wiped, and pulled my pants up. It’s just a little weird to get off, thinking about the blue water, instead of Bobby’s cute little dick. Because I don’t want to feel like a pedophile, there. A naughty babysitter, taking advantage of the situation. A child molestor, and giving him his pill tonight, so he can sleep.

“Huh!” Rohypnol. He’s got a prescription for Roofies, and it never occurs to you, as a girl, that you could use that for rape. Just like boys can, but we’re talking about college boys, here. They have to be at least old enough to buy you a drink, that’s how they roofie you, but I don’t have to worry about that. I’m not old enough to go out to bars, or college parties, I don’t even smoke.

That’s another thing, that’s probably gonna cover up the smell of sex, stinking up the restroom. I kinda want to try it now. “Snh? Shit.” I forgot to wash my hands, so now my fingers stink, and I almost got to the door before I had to run back.

I didn’t have to puke. Honestly, I should have. Isn’t that supposed to be disgusting? A baby sitter molesting children in their sleep. It certainly shouldn’t be a turn-on.

Unless, I am actually a pedo.


Bobby didn’t run that afternoon, when I walked him home. He literally walked, and held my hand when the light changed. It was friday, so he didn’t have any homework for the weekend. I did, but I had all weekend to try, and focus.

Couldn’t think about what that was, with my hand sweaty in his. He didn’t let go when we got to the other side, but you know what? I never noticed what big hands he had now.

“You’re quiet.”

“I’m sorry,” he wouldn’t even look at me, “I don’t want you to leave, but it’s because of what happened yesterday, isn’t it?”

I stopped, right there on the side of the road, and took his other hand, to look him in the eye.

“No, it’s because of what didn’t happen. What could have happened, and. Ugh!” You’d think that after almost 24 hours, I could have thought of the words for this. “Don’t feel guilty, I told you it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You won’t be a little boy for much longer, so you don’t need me as a babysitter any more. That’s all.”

He nodded, and then he broke into a big grin. “Okay, so can you be my girlfriend now, instead?”

“Okay!” I hugged him. Honestly, it was so obvious, I could kick myself for not thinking of it before.

“Let’s go out, it’s not a school night, so I don’t have to go to bed early.”

“I have a little money, so let my take you to dinner. Wherever you want.” Honestly, I felt a little guilty taking the money, but now I was just glad to get paid early. So I could spend it on him. My boyfriend, Bobby.

He hugged me around the waist, so I could hold him over the shoulder, behind the head. “I already got what I want.” He hugged me closer, “Right here.”

“Oh!” That was so sweet that we kissed for the first time. Right there on the sidewalk. Honestly, it was so nice to have the old Bobby back. The excited one, running his motor mouth a mile a minute to keep up, but he didn’t run away, because I wouldn’t let him go. “Me too.”


Our first date was great, but probably not going to be all that interesting to read about. We went out, walked around holding hands. We didn’t see anybody we knew, so he could show me off, as his girlfriend. We got burgers, and at them in the park. Watched the sunset, and learned how to make out.

We started to, honestly neither one of us was a great kisser to begin with, but it was a start. I guess it was mostly just a relief, to get all that sexual tension out in the open, and I realized that I just didn’t think about it. I put it off, instead, but if it ever came up to the surface, I mostly thought something to the effect of “Maybe when we’re a little older.”

When we got home, his dad was worried sick. “Oh, there you are.”

“We went out on a date.” He took my hand, and held it up to show him, proudly. I was a little embarrassed, so I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to deny it, but my face burned up to my ears. So, I just bit my lip, and nodded.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “So that’s why you couldn’t be his babysitter any more.”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t even say I’m gonna go, bye. So, I left, and went home to think about him. What could have happened, and avoided the thought of what I could have done, if I stayed. His babysitter, giving him his sleeping pill, and waiting until he passed out. Going in his room, and shaking him. Making sure he wouldn’t wake up before I ran my hand down his young body.

His flat chest, boney ribs, smooth stomach, and pulling out his shirt to feel his bare skin. Him breathing, and that deep slow sleeping breath, like a snore, without the snore, but the same rhythm. Then, back down to his pants, fully clothed. For some reason I imagined him wearing the same clothes he had on last night. The pants he had to pull up when I walked in on him. The shirt held under his chin so he could look down, and watch it pop back up.

I mean, I managed to think about him kissing me, maybe getting to second base, until I passed out. I didn’t even finish, I barely got my hands dirty, but I guess I was exhausted from walking around all afternoon, until the sun started going down.

His button, and his fly. The waistband of his underpants, and pinching it to get my fingers in there. His soft little penis, getting hard under my fingers, and a little drop of premen on the tip.

“Huh!” I woke up, and my fingertip felt moist. Of course, I slipped it out, but that was just like popping a cork. A little ran down my butt to soak into the sheets. “Snh!” I lifted the covers to stick my nose under there, and take a deep breath. Then, I smelled my finger, which was in there. Long enough to have a really dirty sex dream.

It sure wasn’t a nightmare. I’m not, a child molestor. I’m not even a pedophile, I just fell in love with a boy before he hit puberty. I never even looked at another man, because they’re not him. It certainly wasn’t love at first sight. I used to walk in on him naked to tell him it was time to get out, and dry off. In the bathtub, he didn’t get a stiffy, but it just floated up in the water.

Of course that’s another common fantasy. The dirty babysitter, I didn’t want to be a dirty babysitter. It already messed with my head, my feelings for him. My boyfriend, and the love of my life. “Bobby. Hhuhuhuh! Oh, Bobby!”

That’s what finally finish it for me. The thought of him waking up from a wet dream, and playing with himself, thinking of me. Wetting his sheets, then passing out, to dream of me again…


I didn’t get a chance to check my email again, until I woke up in the morning. Took a long hot shower until we ran out of hot water, then spent like an hour trying to find the best thing to wear.

My father is pretty cool, but that doesn’t mean that he lets me have the kinds of clothes that you could wear out on a date. So, I gave up, and put on my swimsuit. I thought maybe we could go out to see if they’ve filled up the pool yet. It’s the weekend, and I really wanted to show him more of my body.

To be fair, I got to see a lot more of his, but.

[From: [email protected]
Subject: How about now?]

“Ugh!” [Attached Image:] I didn’t even click on it, I just typed in: [I’m sorry, but I have a boyfriend now. Goodbye.] Sent it, deleted all his emails, and blocked him before he responded.

I know, I shouldn’t have teased him in the first place, but I didn’t even want to see if he went through with it. If he shaved off all his pubes for me, but come on. There’s plenty of teenage girls out there for him to send nudes to. If they’re interested. He does have a pretty good body, but I don’t want to look at it any more.

Now that I got exactly what I wanted…



I can’t write Bobby’s PoV, because it would be even less linear. I can, but most people wouldn’t be able to follow it. One of the rarest possible side effects of AD/HD is true parallel thinking. A clue for teachers is what problems he has, in particular with language processing: Sentences are too linear, he can’t think of 1 thing at a time, let alone stay on task. Chess is an exception, because the task is non-linear. He can think several moves ahead, in parallel, while she’s trying to decide on 1 move at a time.

She even started trying mental time-sharing, to keep up with him. Back before quad core processors (I’m not getting into Amiga architecture, let alone Cray’s.) single CPUs could emulate Parallel Processing by switching tasks. Rapidly, which is why she didn’t even finish every thought, before switching to another.

“I don’t have AD; What were we talking about?” There’s a little Folie à deux feedback, from her trying to keep up with his overclocked quad core processor. (Also why she’s struggling with Pre-algebra. There’s too many factors.) She’s a 386, but he’s an Amiga running the Mandelbrodt set on Video-toaster, and a PC emulator, in parallel. As his tutor, she has to try to help him think in plaintext.

I’m gonna need feedback to decide whether this is worth pursuing, because she’s not a pedophile (She just scared herself, because she fell in love with him before puberty) She consciously avoided becoming the stereotypical dirty babysitter, because she already knew that fantasy, and she has too much to think about at once. So, she’s not going to rush into anything, before they’re both ready.

Unfortunately, she can’t stop him getting impatient…

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  • Reply AP

    Your stories are absolutely not for the passive reader. They are not for the quick toss and go.
    I like this story mostly because of the way you wrote it. For that reason I would love to see what you can do with another part.

    • Psiberzerker

      Well, thanks. It sounds like the admin is a little swamped with the new rash of adbots. So, I’m going to give her a break from reading my 1,500 words a day, so she can work on that.