Memoir of a Child Slut/Chapter 5
Coming back after that summer vacation to my pretend life, I was worse off than ever before. Tom was gone, I felt like a huge liar trying to be so perfect all the time, and I was lonelier than ever despite my few friends because they didn't know me for who I really was; a cum hungry, cock sucking slut of a school girl.
I had managed to keep up my good girl facade for a long time so I couldn't just throw that away. I had spent time and effort to build that reputation, which itself was useful, so I had no desire to betray everyone's expectations of me, even if I felt like an imposter in the meantime. My mom also hated when people complimented me, so that was one extra perk to being a good girl.
When I turned 11, I did do a few subtle things to try to refine my image. I stopped going by Caroline, preferring Carol since that sounded more grown up. I only wore my hair in tight ponytails because I thought it showed that I was a hard worker. Extra bonus, it also kept my hair out of my mouth when it was busy. I started to wear shorts and skirts whenever I could. Without much of an ass and still no tits to speak of, my legs were the only things I could show off. But I was careful not to hurt my image. I was still trying to play the good girl.
To further my good girl image I decided to get into babysitting, the de facto career path for any responsible teenage girl, even though I was still barely a tween. Nothing like an afternoon course to certify your suitability to look after kids that are merely a few years younger than you. But that's hardly half the battle. A piece of paper doesn't erase the lingering gossip that I was a 4th grade cocksucking hussy. Thanks for that mom. That gossip made landing jobs harder. I had to rely on families that had only recently moved into the area to get my foot in the door. And although I had hoped to use this to bolster my positive public image, babysitting eventually turned into a way to satisfy my hidden sinful side.
I went through our whole neighborhood door-to-door and landed scattered jobs here and there, often lying about my age so I was taken more seriously. Word of mouth was the most effective way I later drummed up business once I'd proven my abilities. My mom stopped caring how long I spent out of the house (although she was still happy to ground me for it when it suited her) so I took as many jobs as I could. My dedication and exceptional flexibility made possible many nearly cancelled spousal date nights, or last minute after school care when something came up at work. I quickly developed a good reputation as a young but reliable emergency sitter.
None of that changed who I was. Even though I found new purpose in sitting I still had an oral fixation and seeked regular validation. So I jerked off a few of my more regular clients here and there just because the opportunity presented itself; a quick blowie after a bath or a lotioned handjob getting ready for bed. The problem I had was that they were all too young to cum. That was so disappointing. I couldn't keep my superpower status if I couldn't make boys cum. That isn't to say that I didn't manage to dole out the odd dry bedtime orgasm for my clients, both my boys and girls, with my increasingly skillful tongue. It was also plain fun to fool around from time to time to unwind, especially with my busy schedule, but being the preteen cumslut that I was there wasn't as much in it for me without that goopy reward at the end.
There was one time I was looking after a first grade boy that I got to blow his middle school brother when he got home early from a track meet. He was dropped off by a friend and gave me the most confident head nod I've ever seen, casually checking me out the very moment he walked in. Something about that turned me on instantly. The sight of his long lean body in his airy tank top and the scent of his sweaty, pubescent pheromones wafting off of him and exciting my senses got me so antsy with anticipation that I was flirting with him before he could take his shoes off. We talked for a little while, but once I reached under my skirt and dropped my panties right in front of him it didn't take much convincing to get his pants off too.
I relished everything about that living room blowjob, including the sheen of sweat I lapped from his skin wherever I licked him. He had a cock that was so smooth and perfect and just big enough to give me a challenge. There was hardly any hair on his balls and as I sucked and pumped and jerked I was afraid he wouldn't give me the reward I felt I deserved for all this. But his young cum was silky, plentiful, and tasted so yummy I would've messed my panties had I still been wearing them. I smacked his velvety jizz between my lips for minutes on end, partly just showing off. It had been months since I'd had any of that white gold, and his was so fresh and creamy I made sure to drain him dry before his parents got home, .
I bugged his mom for weeks afterward for another babysitting job just so I could get for one more taste of her talented little athlete, but I got shot down every time. Probably had something to do with me leaving my underwear in their living room. Letting his little brother watch couldn't have helped either.
But there was one job that changed me.
My mother actually recommended me to another single mom she met through one of her gossipy friends. She was a nurse named Amy stuck on a night shift who needed someone to look after her daughter from roughly 6 PM to 8 AM. Her schedule had lots of variance as things like overlap between shifts and mandatory overtime often turned her normally 12 hour shift into something longer. Why this was deemed an appropriate job for a 6th grader is beyond me, but my mom said I would be perfect for it and assured Amy that I would do it without question.
It was unlike my mother to sing my praises to anyone for most anything and may be one of the nicest things my mom ever did for me, even if she didn't mean to. At the time I thought she just wanted me out of the house or was trying to sabotage me with a job she didn't think I could handle, possibly to ruin my reputation. While mom's tone never really implied that, I have a suspicion now that Amy was paying my mother very well for my services. I never saw the money, it all went straight to mom as monthly payments. Mom would give me a little cash every week, but it was little more than an allowance considering these were such long shifts I worked. So either this Nurse was totally broke or my mom was using me as a second source of income. But even with how little money I got from it, this was the best job I ever had.
The girl's name was Cassandra. She was a spunky little 7 year old who became attached to me very quickly. We did a few trial runs of Cassandra sleeping at my house where my mom could help (she didn't) since Cassandra and her mom lived pretty far away from us. She probably could have stayed with me in my room long term but, since she was enrolled in a school close to their home and my mom was unwilling to have her or her newest boytoy drive Cassandra every day, the only sensible option was for me to stay over at their place. Amy had been relying on friends and coworkers up until then to help juggle her daughter's care but that was proving more and more difficult as time went on and she wanted to be able to offer her daughter a more stable schedule. That meant me taking a city bus to my school in the morning and then a second time as soon as I finished helping with dinner at my own house so I could then look after Cassandra in her own home.
Oh, Cassandra. She was such a cute, precious little thing with a gap toothed smile and her straight blonde hair kept short in an adorable little bob cut. She was always so happy and carefree, like a silly little puppy who wanted nothing more than to play and wasn't concerned with what form that took. She was delightful.
The bus would get me to their apartment 10 minutes before Amy had to leave which meant I made Amy late on occasion. She was always appreciative to have me though. We would chat briefly about what did or didn't need to be done that evening but that eventually turned into a quick hi and a thank you and Amy would be gone. It was simple stuff. Cassandra had to be asleep by 8PM and I rarely stayed up past 9 myself, taking her mom's bed. The next morning we would get up together, have breakfast, get ready, then I'd walk her to her school before taking the bus across town to mine. Sometimes Amy would get home while we were eating breakfast, but that was rare. She usually just missed us so we had hours and hours alone together.
I really tried my best to be a good sitter. It was such an easy job and she was such a lovely girl so I didn't want to ruin any of that. I could pretend I was part of this normal little family and ignore my own. I was almost more of a sister than a sitter. So I followed Cassandra's regimen precisely. I had Cassandra bathed and in bed by 7:30 every night followed by a bedtime story and a chaste goodnight kiss. But it didn't take long for cracks to form.
One grumpy evening Cassandra mentioned how she hated wearing pajamas every night and wished she could sleep naked like she used to. Her mom made her stop because she was always sleeping over at other people's houses. I assured her that I didn't mind at all. I had already been supervising her baths, just to chat or help wash her hair so I'd seen her naked plenty and she should be able to wear whatever she wanted (or not) in her own home. Cassandra still seemed hesitant about the idea but when I left after our bedtime story to get her a glass of water I came back to her gleefully peeling off her PJs. She gave me a big hug and a kiss on the lips. My open-minded encouragement opened up so much more.
We checked with her mom the next night to make sure her sleeping naked was allowed and we were given the okay. So after her bath, Cassandra would often just towel off then strut around in the buff as we got ready for bed. It was a little funny just how happy she was to trounce around without her clothes on. She always became super bubbly. After a week of naked bedtimes she kept asking for her bath earlier and earlier. Fine by itself, except that she'd often refuse to get dressed after. She clearly knew it was naughty to run around naked, and she did so gleefully, getting all hyper before bed, bouncing her bare butt off the walls. She liked it. So did I.
Arguably it was all innocent enough until I decided to get into the bath with her. I also had to get clean at some point, and although I normally showered in the morning I just really felt like having a bath one night instead. Maybe it was all an excuse to get naked with Cassandra, I don't know anymore, but in my head I justified it as a huge time saver. We would be able to spend so much more time playing together, both in and out of the bathtub.
But sharing a bath was really pushing things. We both knew that and also knew not to mention it to her mom. After our first nervous splashy escapade together we both looked forward to our shared tub time. Although bath time was the excuse we both used to lose our clothes, Cassandra skipped a bath some nights. So eventually we stopped looking for excuses and would strip down whenever we felt like it, sometimes as soon as her mom left the apartment. Sometimes I'd pretend to be embarrassed or I'd tease her a little, but mostly it was just the two of us running, wrestling or lounging around naked together enjoying our freedom from fabric for as long as we dared.
After that one night I always bathed with her. She looked her cutest dripping wet and she liked when I washed her. What we didn't always do was run around naked afterward. It wasn't an automatic thing. Sometimes one of us wanted clothes, or Cassie would wear her towel, or we'd be semi-civilized and sit around in panties and socks. But even when we were naked our nudity wasn't entirely sexual. We both discovered how freeing and relaxing it was to not worry about tight training bras or how your clothes were sitting or getting them dirty while horsing around. It was simply one fun way to unwind and go crazy after a long day. It also felt insanely intimate to lay on the couch cuddled up to each other skin to skin, limbs intertwined, hugging each other closely.
Because we didn't do it every single day, the novelty and naughtiness of our shared nudity hardly wore off over time. If one of us was in the mood it didn't take much to convince the other to strip down. Sometimes I would just jump Cassie and strip her myself and she would playfully pout, shuffling around with her pants at her ankles. But we never got bored of it. We'd do splits and cartwheels, dance on the balcony at sunset, draw on each other, whatever we dared to try. Being naked together was a sort of gateway drug for us, but weirdly that's not when things first got sexual.
We were a few months in to our routine. Naked bedtimes were the norm but there was no bath tonight. We were just messing around on the couch like any pair of friends, laying on each other or pushing each other off. Cassandra was suddenly fighting from her back on the floor, kicking her legs at me, her bright pink leggings streaking through the air. I tried to grab her ankle so many times but she always slipped away, so I put my feet up to match her.
We were pushing against each others soles when my foot slipped and slammed down between her legs. I nearly full-on stomped her crotch but stopped myself as I made contact. It was basically a tap and couldn't have hurt, but she squealed anyway all dramatic. I pushed out with my foot and slid her across the floor a few inches to play it up a little. She laughed and latched onto my foot immediately, holding it against her crotch. I tried to pull back but she wouldn't let go. So I tried to worm my way out from her grip, twisting my foot against her but she wrapped her legs around mine and held me firm. In frustration, I shook my leg and vibrated my foot, my sole still trapped between her thighs and against her crotch. She laid still and giggled.
"Do that again!"
I shook my foot a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth. Each time her giggles got less and less and her hands guided me more and more. Soon we were both just rubbing my foot up and down the crotch of her leggings. She asked for 'foot wiggles' again and again and I obliged for a while but we both eventually moved on when neither of us were sure where to take this.
Later that night as I was falling asleep Cassandra crawled into bed with me. I woke up to that naked little girl gently poking my side “checking” to see if I was awake. She said she had some kind of nightmare and refused to go back to her room. I tried to hold her close and keep her still to comfort her but she twisted and turned and kept asking me if I was still awake. After half an hour of this I asked her what was really going on. With a lot of hesitation she admitted she couldn't stop thinking about those foot wiggles.
With a lot of hesitation, I offered to help her get to sleep with a new "goodnight kiss" but told her that she couldn't tell anyone that I helped her. She agreed, and I crawled between her legs. Over the next hour I gave that adorable little girl the squealiest, squirmiest, filthiest, prepubescent near-orgasm that I could drag out of her using all of the foreplay, teasing, and tricks my cousin had used on me. We both laid awake for a long time afterward, all sweaty and worked up, so I didn't really help her sleep, but I'm certain she forgot all about her nightmare.
I felt guilty after doing that. Cassandra was so pure, utterly uncorrupted by the world. But with hindsight that's exactly why I did it. Part of me wanted to be the one to corrupt this little girl, to do for her what my cousin did for me, to turn her into everything I was and more. And that's when I insisted she start calling me Carrie.