Jean, Abby and Robert
Copyright© 2026 by Robin
Chapter 1
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Robert, an unlikely babysitter becomes a family member.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Coercion Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction First Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Babysitter
“Abby has been fed; my cell number is by the phone if you need it. Don’t wait up for me, Bobby.”
“I won’t, Mrs Howard; have a nice time.”
Mrs Howard kissed his cheek, momentarily showing most of her breasts in a tight cleavage; his eyes dropped to them as he blushed from her peck. She turned in a cloud of perfume and chiffon to open the door and escape to her date for tonight.
Robert closed the door behind her, waving as she stepped into the waiting cab. Babysitting was a regular thing between him and Jean. Since her decree absolute had been granted, she had taken up some evening class or another in the local school. Robert sat for her every Friday, trying to entertain her lively young daughter and keep her out of trouble. Abby, a vivacious fourteen-year-old, was no real trouble. They had even become friends in a kind of way. He was only four years older than she, after all and could remember the antics he got up to, giving the sitter a hard time. Wasn’t that what they were for anyway?
He had seen Mrs Howard through the lowest times during the past few years. The divorce had not been amicable in the slightest. The fight over Abby had gone to court, as had the bitter war over finances. Mrs Howard, or Jean as she preferred, had hit bottom, often crying spontaneously. Robert had witnessed some of those despairing moments and, in his young, inexperienced way, tried to be a friend, an ear for her to pour out her heart to.
The television was on when he came into the lounge. Abby had put a DVD in, Harry Potter, one of her favourites. She was curled up on a sofa, dressed in her nightie, ready for bed promptly at nine according to mummy, but somehow, it was always extended for half an hour, sometimes even a little more.
“Do you want a drink?” Robert asked her and got a shake of the head by way of answer. He sat next to her to watch the film, probably for the third time.
Some way into it, a holistic dragon leaps almost from the screen. It always makes Abby jump, even though she knows the plot inside out. It is a ploy she had used on a few occasions now, knowing that, if she feigned fright, Bobby would put his arm around her to hold her body close to him, exactly her reason for the choice of film.
Predictably, he did just that, throwing a protective arm around her shoulder. He drew her closer to him. She nestled, feeling his warmth through his T-shirt and cuddled him around his stomach, her head resting against his torso.
It was no accident that her hand strayed to his groin. Abby wanted to feel his cock, even through his jeans; her imagination had her unzipping him so that she could grasp him in her small hand, his bulbous head, purple in colour, poking through her fist. He shifted a little, sitting up a bit so that her head lay in his lap. Robert had no idea what was on Abby’s mind until her fingers so carefully and deftly found the tab of his jeans. She had managed to pull his fly open without his knowledge until her fingers quested under the denim fabric. He almost shot up to a standing position, which would have thrown her full length onto the floor, but instead, she pushed herself up, using the hand still placed on his cock to lever herself into a kneeling position beside him.
“Can I see it, Bobby?” Her saucer-sized eyes looked directly into his with an expression that had almost always twisted her father around her finger, before Daddy left for good.
“No, Abby, you can’t; it’s private.” She noticed he hadn’t lifted her hand away. She could feel his dick under the cloth of his underpants. Her fingers closed around the girth of him, outlining his dick in cotton relief.
Half kneeling, she took no notice of his words, but full advantage of his momentary incapacity. In the time it took to blink, she had hooked a finger under the elasticated band of his shorts and pulled. His semi-hard cock was revealed. She grasped him, her fingers closing around him, only just meeting in a vice-like grip. He gasped and feebly tried to push her off him, but the action only made her grasp him tighter, concentrating all his attention on where her hold on him was. He was in a precarious situation with his most delicate parts vulnerable in her grip.
She looked deep and directly into his eyes; he looked like a rabbit caught in the glare of a pair of on-rushing headlamps.
“Abby...” He was going to protest, but with the quickness of youth, she had ducked her head and planted a kiss on his cock head. The shock of what she had done disabled his ability to speak completely. Her lips parted, she took him in her mouth and suckled on him, using her tongue to trap his cock head against the ridged roof of her mouth. His traitorous cock sprang to life instantly, threatening to explode there and then.
Somehow, he managed to gather enough wits to gently lift Abby’s head so that her mouth was no longer likely to get flooded with his come. The memory of the warmth of her mouth lingered. Her hand still grasped him; he was in desperate straits, and clear thinking was something that eluded him at this precarious moment.
“Abby, this is wrong, you’re only fourteen, and I’m a lot older.” Again, Abby ignored him, deigning not to answer, but instead twisted around, straddled him and then sat down with a plop on his lap, facing him. She had managed to keep hold of his cock, positioning him at the entrance of her down-covered cunt until her downward momentum forced his length into her body. Although she was tight, virginally tight, his cock wasn’t the first thing to have found its way into her little twat. Abby had had designs on Bobby for a while, since she became aware of the pleasure she could contrive from rubbing herself with a fingertip. Secretly, in the evenings after bedtime or the shower, she had been practising for this eventuality with her mother’s soft rubber dildo, fucking it into her, just as she had silently witnessed her mummy do in private moments when she was supposed to be in bed asleep. It had hurt at first, but the more she practised, the easier it got. Her climaxes had hit a peak when she found the pleasures of her clit. Rubbing that hard little bead while ramming the bendy dildo into her twat, brought her off in no time flat and all the while, imagining Bobby’s cock pounding into her instead of a shocking pink coloured rubber dong.
She bounced up and down, using her knees on either side of his slim waist. The feelings she received were confusing to her. The thrill of having successfully mounted the object of her desire was great. Her body was responding in a much more aggressive and demanding way than when she had wormed the dildo into her, but his reaction was not what she had expected.
Instead of pounding into her as Uncle Keith had done to mummy many times, Bobby was just sitting still, dumbstruck and immobile. She stopped bouncing, sat down on him, successfully burying his shaft to the hilt and looked earnestly into his eyes. She couldn’t help tearing up a little.
“Don’t you like me?” She asked, fearing the answer.
“Yes, of course I like you; it isn’t that, just that, well, what we are doing here is wrong. I’m supposed to be looking after you, not making out.” He realised that his cock was still deep inside her. An involuntary twitch almost had him shooting his load. He was just as confused as Abby. At one level, he was horrified at the position he was in, but at a more fundamental level, his cherry was being popped, and it felt damned good.
She burst into tears, her hands covering her face, wracking sobs caused her shoulders to bob, sending a tremor through her body to be transmitted straight to his dick still inside her and very much ready for unloading. He grasped her shoulders, as much to stop the feelings her movements were doing to his testicles as to try and pacify the poor girl.
“Abby, I do like you; I like you a lot, but...”
“But, not enough...” She interrupted him. “ ... Not enough to want to screw me anyway.” A word she had heard her mother use on occasion while her uncle was ramming his cock into her mother. She went into another paroxysm of sobbing; the pressure was becoming too much for Bobby to bear. He was so close to coming that it was painful. Her words surprised him, even stung, because he did think an awful lot of this little girl. Her next words, though, threw him into a complete panic.
“I’m telling.” She announced as she got off his rock-hard erection and cruelly slapped his dick with an open hand. Two things happened in very quick succession. Robert jumped up from the sofa as if his tail was on fire, pain galvanised him into action, and Abby ran, screaming blue murder, from the room, heading for the sanctuary of her bedroom.
It took him a few minutes to calm down sufficiently and get his throbbing cock back where it belonged, in the safety of his jeans, to be able to follow her. He was very worried now, not sure if Abby would, in fact, tell her mother, but fearing she might say something on the lines of ‘Bobby touched me’ and the whole heap of pain that that would bring on. He knocked softly at her door, hearing her sobs muffled. She didn’t answer, so he knocked a little harder, using his knuckles.
He heard her answering, “What?” distortedly through the panelled door.
“Can I come in?” She didn’t answer. “Abby, can I come in, please?” She still didn’t answer him, so he tried the handle. It was not locked. The door swung open.
She had thrown herself on top of the bed, burying her head in a pink-covered pillow. Her nightdress had ridden up to reveal her narrow buttocks, stark white in contrast to her sun-tanned legs. Robert tried not to look, but her position meant that this was the first thing his eyes landed on, and, even in the position he was in now, male hormones are not interested in moral dilemmas. Desire sprang to his tormented dick, which hardened instantly.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her nightdress down so that the distraction of her smooth skin didn’t sway him off track. He needed to know what she would say, if anything, to her mother and, if he could, dissuade her from telling. He stroked her hair in a soothing touch. She had stopped crying, just sniffed into her pillow, staying flat on her stomach.
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