Chapter 3: Edge of the Precipice

Following demand from readers, herewith part three – the final part, of what might be seen as “The Babysitting Diaries.” Young Jaclyn certainly has an admirable work-ethic, a strong believer in keeping her finger on the pulse, as it were. The story continues on directly from the last paragraph of Part 2.

Sometimes there simply isn’t any adequate response to fully address the situation at hand. Thus it was, as my daughter’s eyes rapidly dilated in response to viewing the now fully inactive diorama on the coverlet.

“Jaclyn’s got nothing on daddy!!!” she spluttered. “And why’s mom getting ready to have a shower?”

The very innocence of her words brought a shared moment of relief. Jaclyn giggled, drawing her legs up and hugging her knees defensively. Kyra more or less slid off the far-side of the bed choking back a full-on cry of laughter. With just her head and shoulders visible above the bed linen, she reminded me of a swimmer at Bondi Beach caught in a rip and looking out desperately for the nearest life-saver. I was still modestly attired – I could afford to crack a smile.

“Well sweetheart,” I responded slowly, “I suppose it’s a bit like when Jaclyn tickles you. Sometimes grown-ups play games like that too.”

“But Jaclyn’s not a grown-up is she?’ Eloise fired back with unerring logic. We were quite obviously needing to consider Law-School for her further down the track.

“I guess not sweetie,” I was forced to concede, “But mommy and I were only making Jaclyn feel happy – just like she wanted us to.” I realized, even as I exited that last syllable, the trap I had set for myself.

“Can you make me feel happy daddy?” she asked, those pouty little lips dripping with excess sugar. I was on death row.

“Well no we can’t honey ... its ... er, how do I say this?” I glanced around, but there was no-one on site to prompt or bail me out of the hellish corner I had backed myself into. “The fact is baby, we just can’t do things like that. Stuff we do with Jaclyn is not allowed with you. The Police would come and take mommy and daddy away for a long time.”

My daughter’s eyes were the size of saucers at this juncture. Again though, her innate sense of reasoning kicked in. “But how would they know daddy?” she asked.

Game, set and match!

“They have a way of finding out sweetheart,” I told her. “People say things by accident and stuff you don’t want other people to know is suddenly no secret any longer.” I latched on to the sudden hiatus in questioning.

“Anyway Eloise, you have to get back to sleep now. Jaclyn needs to go home and mommy and daddy are both very tired, so let’s get you back to your room huh?” So saying I got off the bed, took her hand and began leading her away from the playing field. She had one last parting gem for us.

“Can I watch you make Jaclyn happy next time she comes?”

I opted for the standard parental cop-out.

“We’ll see sweetheart,” I muttered, “That’s up to Jaclyn anyway, not me. Now come-on, get that little tail into bed. Without thinking I gave her pert rear end a swat with my hand. God, Talk about pouring fuel on the fire!

“Ouch” she giggled patting her bottom. “Goodnight mommy, ‘night Jaclyn,” she called-out across the lounge-room en route to the staircase. Following behind, I propelled her into bed and bequeathed her a good-night kiss, tucking in the covers as I did so.

Returning to the bedroom, it appeared both girls had made themselves decent in the interim. Watching Jaclyn as she zipped her skirt back up was no great hardship. I was only sorry to have missed the bra and panties recovery program.

“I suppose I’d better be getting home,” she said to Kyra, with what almost amounted to resigned obligation.

“Mom and Dad were expecting me back by ten-thirty at the latest.”

Getting on as it was for 11.15 pm, I could understand her concern. Though remarkably difficult to ignite spontaneous chat-mode with any under-age babysitter that you have just spent the last hour or so undressing, molesting and sexing-up generally, I managed a smile coupled with a mumbled “Of course sweetie, I’ll drop you home right away.”

Kyra I noticed, shot me one of her trademark “That’s right away, no “just-one-for-the-road type gig” glances. She can be such a little bitch sometimes.

As you might imagine though, having a fully fledged Lolita sitting within arm’s reach, smiling contentedly and fully cognizant of her own youthful charms, as you negotiate even a couple of streets – is temptation incarnate.

“That was SO hot tonight,” she muttered, as we threw a left on to 9th Avenue.

There was no one around. Parking kerbside I pulled her across the seat. Those sexy little lips were no less adventurous then they had been but thirty minutes earlier. Time was of the essence!

Squeezing gently the young girl’s right breast, the sensation was I think as much to her liking as my own. She wriggled beneath my touch and as I kissed her with greater intent, I could not fail to notice her legs parting noticeably. Shifting base further south, I slipped a hand up between her thighs and locating those hot little panties, began indenting my way vertically. Such interesting terrain, a locale where heat, fantasy and illicit desire co-exist.

“Not again?” she giggled, as I began easing her panties down her thighs. I had my hand inside her bra by this stage and was teasing both nipples unmercifully. It may have been a dark street devoid of humanity at that time of night, but in all honesty I don’t think it would ever have mattered.

Kicking her shoes off and with her undies down around her left ankle somewhere, Jaclyn lost no time in seating herself astride my lap. I don’t even remember who performed the unzipping honors – not that too much honor was on display at that particular moment.

What I do remember was her easing herself down with unerring accuracy upon something that most sixteen-year old girls would not normally be wanting to sit on. I felt her gasp as she was penetrated to what was probably her cervical depths. It took but ten seconds to extricate her breasts from any confining material on site, and at the point I was able to draw down upon her left nipple she was breathing like a young soul lost in Hell. What, I wondered, did that make me for taking her there?

“Heavy traffic?” Kyra enquired as I stepped back into the kitchen. “You just had to didn’t you?”

“Had to what?” I countered bravely. “You think I messed around with her in the car on the way home?? C’mon I’ve only been gone fifteen minutes tops.”

“Yeah for a five minute trip – tops,” she grinned. “Besides, you have a ridiculous expression on your face, your - guilty as hell alright.”

“If ya really want to know” I bluffed, angelic composure oozing from every pore, “We were just sitting out the front of her house for a few minutes talking about school and stuff – nothing to get yourself het up about. Trust me.”

“Day I trust you,” she responded, “Is the day I need a frontal lobotomy.”

No more was mentioned on the subject till we hopped into bed.

“What DID you do to her?” she whispered.

“What didn’t I?” I said grinning, “Wanna hear the details?”

“Of course,” she replied, slipping her panties off once again.

Given an inexplicable lull in our social calendar, Jaclyn’s babysitting talents were not needed for almost three weeks. I for one, was already suffering early withdrawal symptoms.

Deposited on our porch by her quite youngish father, it was all I could do to suppress a grin, wondering just how he would react were he privy to his teenage daughter’s antics the past few visits. Only two possibilities came to mind - an AK47 with full clip. or a digital-camera hosting a 16 gig memory card.