Busting Babysitter's Cherry

By J.M. Christopher

Mark is a single parent with two beautiful children - one three year's old, the other just over a year. His wife died during childbirth of their second child and Mark has been lonely since. He works from home but hires a neighbor, Samantha ( a nineteen year old college girl, trying to earn some extra money), to babysit them a few evenings each week so that he can not only get out of the house, but possibly land himself a few dates. However, he is out of practice and soon he becomes frustrated.

When coming home early from another failed date, he finds a strange car in his driveway and walks in to find Samantha in her bra and panties, on top of a boy on his couch. He immediately kicks the boy out, but tells Samantha to stay where she is. She pleads that he not fire her and that he not tell her parents because they would kick her out of the house. In exchange for his silence, she offers to be his wife for the weekend and to let him do whatever he wants to her. He accepts and uses her in every hole she has, just as he used to with his wife. However, what started off as a simple agreement, turns out to be love for both of them.

This story contains sexually explicit situations between two consenting adults. All characters are over the age of 18.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.M. Christopher
• Release date: May 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476061528

J.M. Christopher

Been around the world and have heard a lot of stories. I'm just sharing them with you.

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Busting Babysitter’s Cherry

By

J.M. Christopher

Published by J.M. Christopher at Smashwords

First edition ©2012

Electronic edition ©2012

Published in the United States of America

Copyright 2012 by J.M. Christopher at E-Spice Productions

Published in the United States of America

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations for reviews.

The characters and events written about in this book are completely fictional. Any resemblance between the characters and persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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Busting Babysitter’s Cherry

By J.M. Christopher

Mark, you're working late AGAIN? DUDE!!! That was the comment from Stanley Prudhoe, the nightowl system administrator. He came in at four-thirty most week-days, counterflow to the crowd leaving the high-rise.

Just trying to get these reports reviewed, I said. We need to start screening for grammar skills. An engineering degree isn't enough these days.

He laughed. That statement would be correct, you know, if you actually believed that the people that read those reports had any grammar skills themselves. They wouldn't know a dangling participle if one crawled out the closet and bit 'em in the ass.

I know, I said. But just because the audience is idiots, doesn't mean I don't play the part right.

Dude, he said, you need to get a life.

'Yes,' I told myself, 'I need to get a life.' You see, I'm a single dad—didn't mean to be that way. I was happily married to my high school sweetheart. She was my college sweetheart too, and we held off on the marriage thing until we both graduated. She started her career in nursing and I started my career in information services. We had it all mapped out: we had the first step out of the way, our degrees. The second step wasn't too hard either. We both had good jobs. Third step: Family.

Her employment as a nurse allowed her a lot of flexibility—and boy was my wife flexible. There was enough flexibility, for example, three years ago when she took time off to deliver our little girl, Katie. And there was enough flexibility for us to try the same thing two years later. That resulted in a son, Randy, named after her dad, of course. But I don't know what happened. Some kind of medical thing, you know, one of those terms it has about 20 letters, lots of 'y's' and 's'es' and that sort of thing. That's why, while my newborn son was in the nursery living his first day, my wife slipped into a coma and died.

Devastated doesn't even begin to describe how I felt. There I was, twenty-eight, with the two-year-old daughter and a newborn son, living in a house that was practically a monument to the American family. Every time I turned around, if it wasn't something that Jeannie and I chose