The Telemachus Story Archive

The Babysitter
By Hooder

The Babysitter

“I’m sixteen for godsake, mum – I don’t need a fucking babysitter!”

“Language, Bobby! And he’s not a babysitter, darling, just someone to look after you while we’re away. He’s a friend of Caroline’s. He’s a nice man. And it’s only for seven days - we’ll be back a week tomorrow. It’s not for long. Now be a good boy and be nice to him.”

Bobby stormed up to his room and threw himself onto the bed, fuming. If the guys at school got to hear bout this it would be the end of him. It was bad enough already: Bobby was small for his age, and he often wished he wasn’t so damn cute – the guys at school were always picking on him. “Pretty Boy” had been his nickname for ages. He stretched out, his blond hair was all over the place but it did nothing to make him look less boyish. He just wanted to be 20 years old.

He noticed he had a hard-on and so he sighed, reached for his mobile and punched up his favourite site. He set about his second wank of the day. The clock on the wall said 8.30 am.

The guy’s name was Tony. When Bobby’s parents had introduced them yesterday (immediately before they’d left him there and set off on their mini-holiday in the Bahamas, the bastards), Tony had been wearing a respectable grey suit, a shirt and tie, and his black hair had been neatly combed. The 19-year old had been quiet, and polite. Now, however, Bobby stared out of the window in disbelief: his babysitter was parking a large, aggressive-looking motorbike in the drive and hefting his backpack off his shoulders. And the grey suit had gone: instead he was wearing heavy bike boots and a leather jacket that was covered with studs, as were the two belts low on his hips over the tightest black leather jeans Bobby had ever seen. He took his helmet off as he walked up the drive, popped the collar of his leather jacket up and ruffled his hair until it was spiked like a punk’s, then let himself into the house.

Bobby blinked in amazement. This was not at all what he had been expecting.

“Coffee?” Tony had unpacked and settled himself in the spare bedroom and was now holding the cafetière up questioningly. Bobby nodded. He watched as the biker pushed the plunger down and poured two cups. It was obvious that Tony spent a lot of time in the gym: his tight black tee shirt showed every individual muscle of his six-pack; and below the short sleeves, barbed-wire tattoos were visible on his solid biceps. The boy’s powerful thighs were bulging under his skintight leather jeans, and another – very obvious - bulge sat centrally above them, the zip struggling to contain it.

“Come and have a sit down.” He handed Bobby a coffee and led the way into the living room, his heavy bike boots clonking on the parquet floor.

“Now,” he settled back in an armchair with his legs apart, one hand resting on his shiny black thigh, the fingertips just below his bulge. “I know you don’t want a minder. I said yes because I need the money. My instructions are just to make sure you’re Ok. Nothing else.” He took a sip of his coffee, put the cup down, and smiled. “It’s Saturday today. So perhaps we can have some fun, you and me. Do something together...”

Bobby stared at the babysitter. It was as if one of the hunky leather tops from the website he went to when he was horny had miraculously landed in his living room. He had no trouble in imagining chained boys at his feet, calling him ‘Sir’ and licking his boots. “What sort of things?” He said eventually, and a bit shakily.

Tony shrugged, then smiled. “Oh I’m sure we can think of something.”

Bobby had been thinking of possibilities for a while now.

The boy was tied to the four corners of the bed with ropes. He wriggled and laughed hysterically as fingers explored his body slowly – under his tee shirt, along his arms, down his legs, up his thighs… His cock was hard and he wanted to cum but the bastard wouldn’t let him.

Teasing unbearably, the fingers homed in slowly on the hard, horny cock. For the twentieth time they began to milk it – but, as always, far too gently and far too slowly. And they always stopped too soon.

“Oh fuck. Pleeeeeeease… Let me cum…”

“Later, perhaps.”

“Nooo… Please. I need to cum now!”

“I know you do. And it’s going to get worse. It’s going to get a lot worse, believe me.”

Bobby looked down at the helpless biker. He’d put the babysitter’s leather jacket on – it was a bit too big for him but it seemed to go with what he was doing to the boy and the thick, studded black leather felt so sexy. He pulled the collar up; he’d thought Tony had looked so hot when he’d seen him do that.

Tony shook his head in desperation. “You little bastard.”

Bobby smiled. He was remembering the look on Tony’s face when he’d spoken to him downstairs earlier:

It’s very simple, Tony. There’s you - a big strong biker; and me – a weak, helpless, cute sixteen-year-old boy. We’re alone in this house. What could a little boy like me do to protect himself against you? You could make me do anything you wanted. Unless you do exactly what I say, I will tell my parents – and they will tell the police – that you came onto me, overpowered me. Made me...” here he sniffled as if he was about to cry, “ things.”

Tony’s eyes bulged even more. “I’ve got a fucking girlfriend, you little tosser! I’m straight! What the hell would I want with a boy like you?”

Bobby smiled, and blinked his long eyelashes. “And who do you think they will believe?”

Tony swallowed. He knew exactly who they would believe.

He’d had no choice.

Bobby may only have been sixteen but the website had been very educational: he’d seen enough porn and had experimented on himself enough to know exactly how to deal with a horny cock. He lightened his grip even further and played very slowly with the hunky biker’s cock-head. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll let you cum all right.” He smiled sweetly. “On Tuesday.”

Tony looked horrified. “What?

“Tuesday. You’re not going to cum until then.”

“But that’s three fucking days! I cum twice a day at least! I need to cum now! You can’t do this!”

Bobby smiled slowly. “Oh, but I can. And that’s not the worst of it -I’m gonna spend all day, every day, teasing your hard, horny cock and making you need to cum very, very badly indeed. I want to find out just how insanely horny it’s possible to get a 19-year-old biker boy. If you make yourself cum just once the deal’s off and I tell my parents. And you’re going to sleep in here with me, tied to the bed, so I can torment you and work on your cock whenever I feel like it. And I think I’m going to feel like it a lot.”

Tony banged his head back against the pillow and screwed his eyes shut. “Noooooo...”

And after I make you cum on Tuesday, we’re going to do it all again until Friday.”

He stroked a fingertip lightly over the biker’s cock. “And I’m going to have to find something I can use as a gag – cos you’re really going to need it...”