Katie Learns Not to be a Whore 01

Baby-sitter Katie (F13) tries her hand at making some easy money. It doesn’t go as planned.

It’s late on Wednesday night. I’m driving the baby-sitter home.

“Did the kids give you any trouble?” I ask.

“Not at all,” replies Katie. “They did their homework, had an hour of TV, and then went straight to bed.”

“Good, good,” I say.

Katie has babysat for us a few times now. For a thirteen-year-old, she’s got a good head on her shoulders and is dependable.

As we drive out of my village and towards hers, there’s a period of silence, then she speaks. “Mr Peterson, do you think you’ll need a lot of babysitting this month?”

“The usual amount,” I say. “Once every two weeks maybe. Why, you have plans?”

“It’s just, there’s an exchange trip to France next month and my mum is worried we won’t have the money. And, if I do get to go, everyone knows Paris is famous for its fashion. I’d like to get as many new clothes as I can.”

They grow up fast. Already obsessed with fashion at her age. No doubt my lot will be the same before too long.

“Well, we’ll use you when we can,” I tell her.

There’s another period of silence. Katie is clearly thinking something. She’s squirming in her seat like she’s uncomfortable.

We go over a hump-back bridge and then suddenly she says, “Would you give me thirty quid if I gave you a blowjob?”

I’m so surprised that I nearly swerve off the road. When I regain my composure, I pull the car into a little lay-by.

“Where did that come from?” I ask her.

“It’s just, Lucy says she blows some of the dads she babysits for.”

“Does she?” I say.

“She says it’s a bit gross when they come in your mouth, but not too bad otherwise.”

“Lucy being…?”

“She’s another girl in my year at school. She was the one who was telling me about Paris.”

“And you’ve never…” I try to find an appropriate way to say ‘performed fellatio’ and flounder.

“No. Lucy will do anyone. I’m not a slut like she is though.” She tries to move closer to me and puts a hand on my thigh. “I like you though, so I thought it would be okay, you know, to try.”

I look Katie over. I’m trying, for the first time, to look at her as a woman. No, she’s still a girl. There are signs of breasts beginning to curve out underneath that T-shirt, but she still has no hips or arse to speak of. Her face is still round and childlike.

Nevertheless, I’m starting to get an erection.

I’ve never paid a whore before. I’ve never cheated on my wife. Never even thought about it, at least, not seriously.

This offer is so simple and so easy, I feel like I’d be a fool not to take it.

I pull out my phone and find the number. “Hi, this is Mr Peterson…Yeah, I’m with Katie now…Yes, fine…No, see, the thing is, we’ve just driven out and I’ve realized that I’m low on petrol…Yes, I’m going to have to head back home, get my wallet, and then go via the outskirts of town to top up…Yeah, look, I know it’s a school night…We’ll be as quick as we can, yes, promise…Okay, bye.”

I consider my options. There’s an industrial estate near here with more than a few abandoned buildings, but who knows which of those have security? The other option is to find a dirt farm lane, somewhere with trees. I know just the place.

“Right,” I say and we drive off.

Once we pull up, I get out of the car and have a quick scout around. We’re surely isolated enough that rogue dog walkers aren’t going to be a problem. I come round to the passenger door, open it up, and escort Katie out.

“It’ll be easier in the back,” I tell her. I slid both front seats as far forward as they will go and then we both climb in the back.”

For a moment, we’re sitting there facing forward awkwardly. “How do you want to do this?” I ask her.

“I want you to kiss me,” she says.

I’ve heard whores don’t kiss. Maybe she was being genuine about liking me, or maybe she’s not a very good whore yet.

I lean in and stick my tongue in her mouth. She tastes different. Different to my wife. Maybe it’s her lipstick or the fragrance of her perfume playing tricks. Maybe she’s been sucking on some hard candy earlier, but all I can think of is youth.

My hands start at her face, but before long they’re wandering. I undo her jacket fully and then raise up her T-shirt. The mound of her breast is barely perceptible, but her nipples are surprisingly large, and they’re hard.

“Are you wet?” I ask her as our lips separate.

She looks at me uncomprehending. I’m not sure where the bounds of her innocence are. I find myself surprised by what she’s surprised by.

“Here,” I say. I slip a hand into her skirt and round the bottom of her knickers. “You’re wet,” I tell her.

She nods.

An idea occurs to me.

“I want to lick you there,” I tell her.

“An extra ten quid,” she says.

This breaks the spell.

“Actually, we don’t have time,” I say. “Maybe next time. We’d better get on.”

I lean back in the seat and unzip my trousers. My cock springs out.

I try to read Katie’s expression. She must have seen porn, I decide, so it’s not a total shock, but she’s still clearly nervous.

“You can touch it first,” I tell her.

She makes no move. I reach out and take her wrist and pull her hand towards my dick. She wraps her fingers around it as they arrive.

I don’t rush her at first. She’s making occasional up-and-down motions, but not to any great effect. I’m worried about the time, so eventually I say, “You can try putting your mouth on it now.”

She doesn’t react, just keeps looking ahead.

“We need to do this now,” I tell her. “Or you’ll get into trouble.”

“Ten quid for a hand job,” she says suddenly.

She clearly wants out completely.

“I don’t like this idea,” I say. “We’ve already done enough that I’d be in serious trouble if anyone found out. It’s not worth it just for a quick shake. Besides, you want the money.”

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“No, I’m sorry,” I reply. I move towards her.

“No, don’t!” she starts to cry, but it’s too late she’s already not a virgin.

I’ve pushed aside her knickers and entered her. It’s all so sudden I barely feel her hymen break. She feels it though, I can see it from the tears on her face.

I ride her hard. There’s no point in pretending I’m not raping her. Her tight teen twat yields to me, but only with pressure. I pin her hands back above her head.

She turns away when I try to kiss her. I allow her that this time.

It doesn’t take long before I’m cum hard inside her. When I finish, I don’t withdraw but instead stay on top of her. She has stopped crying, but she’s red-faced and shell-shocked.

I let go of her wrist and start to stroke her hair.

“There, there,” I tell her. “We’re done. We’re done.”

“You…” She gets words out eventually. “Why…?”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “You can’t tease a man like that. You’re young, so you don’t know, but I had to. I couldn’t control myself. I’ll be gentler next time.”

I’m thinking I could be in serious trouble. And besides, I want more of Katie. I’m going to have to play things carefully.

“You said you liked me?” I ask her.

She doesn’t say anything.

“I like you. I thought we would be together. That’s why I went crazy just now when I couldn’t have you. You understand, don’t you? I wouldn’t like to think I’d hurt you in any way. You can forgive me, can’t you?”

Again, silence.

“Thank you,” I continue regardless. “It means so much to you. Now let’s get you cleaned up. Your parents can’t suspect anything.”

I root around and find a bottle of water and some wet wipes. She takes a few gulps and wipes her brow. She still looks like she’s been exerting herself and she’s still red around the eyes but that will fade.

There is the question about her cum-stained knickers though. I consider what to do. Her taking them home to be washed is too risky. Me taking them home raises the same kinds of issues and there’ll be a dangerous period where she’s effectively ‘lost’ them anyway. I don’t fancy just throwing out what are obviously still little girl panties for anyone to find. In the end, I burn them with my cigarette lighter and some leaves for kindling.

“If your mother asks, you can say your period came early and you threw them away out of embarrassment,” I tell her.

She nods. That’s good. She’s now an accomplice. It won’t be a problem.

We start the drive back to her home. I check my watch. We’re still in believably delayed territory.

“Speaking of periods,” I say. “You do get yours, don’t you?”

She doesn’t say anything. I take it as a yes.

“In which case, we’d better take precautions. When does school finish tomorrow? Three-thirty?” I ask.

“Yeah, but I have band,” she says.

“Skip it,” I tell her. I reach into her handbag and grab her phone. “You left this at our house. I’ll get off work early tomorrow and we can make plans for me to give it back to you. That’ll give me a chance to give you the pill and it’ll be a chance for us to spend more personal time together. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” she says. “I’d like that.”

There’s fear in her answer, but there’s also something else.

I’m not sure what the something else is, but I know it means she’s mine.

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