An Evening with the Sitter

At that time I wasn’t old enough to take care of my younger sister and brother on my own. I considered myself more than capable of looking out for myself and maybe my parents did too, but prudently they weren’t taking any chances with the younger two of the household.

In deference to my delicate sensibilities, they never spoke of having an actual ‘babysitter’ come stay with us for the evening. I was usually informed that my parents were having someone ‘come over’ for the evening to ‘keep us company’ while they were out.

Actually, when all was said and done, I didn’t mind all that much. It meant that I could cheerfully ignore my despised siblings while I went about my own business. And besides, my parents usually had someone come over whom we all knew well.

Tonight it was my aunt’s household help, an unmarried lady whom we all politely, if not exactly affectionately referred to as ‘Aunt’ Lisa. That was how things were in those days. It never would have done to just use a first name only and for some reason we never knew her last name either. So instead of having Mrs. So and So come over to sit, it was always ‘Aunt’ So and So.

‘Aunt’ Lisa was really rather nice. Not that we were allowed to tear the house down or anything, but she was a good sport about things and liked to fuss around, making an after dinner snack or buying us ice cream when a vendor drove by. She was strict about bedtimes though, thankfully very punctual about the younger two’s, so they were out of my sight not too long after dinner.

It was wintertime, one of those dark and dreary days that never seemed to hold any promise of anything but fits of rain and overcast, leaden skies. After dark, which comes early at that time of year, we at least had the illusion of being snug and warm by simple virtue of staying inside. I liked to reinforce that feeling by taking a long drawn-out hot bath, circumstances permitting. With my parents away for the evening and the younger two safely in Slumberland, I figured this was as good an opportunity as any.

Aunt Lisa was watching TV as I slunk into the bathroom, pajamas in arm. At around that time, I had begun to discover some of the naughtier pleasures that distinguish children from grown-ups. Nothing overly sexual yet, at least not in the accepted sense of the word that is, no fantasies of ravishing movie stars or such, no frenzied fringing around with my prick yet. But there was something puritent about my being alone in a bathroom that gave me a disquietingly delicious thrill of anticipated pleasure.

Does that sound a bit inexact and vague ? I should think so, for that is how I experienced things at the time. Certain scents could trigger feelings of indescribable longing, or set my belly a flutter. The sound of water cascading into a bathtub or the sight of a row of flasks and jars of cream and other toiletries had a similar effect. Stepping into a tub of foaming bubbles or washing with fragrant soaps or oils did so as well.

Although real down to earth masturbation was yet to come, there was a pleasure in washing myself in certain places that I knew to be beyond that of simple cleanliness. A soapy finger up the asshole for instance, insured not only proper hygiene but also a satisfyingly urgent and powerful bowel movement.

Around the time I discovered this, I got an old book from my grandfather’s library called ‘The Pocket Doctor’. It was a small leather bound pocket-sized book on the subject of medical self help and had been published some time before the Great War. I suppose it was an odd book for a youngster, but there was something positively fascinating about the procedures described in its’ pages.

I for one could never in my wildest dreams have conceived of the practice of urethral catheterisation - but there it was, described in detail and illustrated clearly in neat old fashioned etchings. The same applied to other medical practices such as relieving constipation by means of clystering and enemaing or the administration of various types of suppositories. And that wasn’t all there was either.

Of course I had no means of carrying out any of the treatments depicted in the little self-help manual. The equipment was all lacking as would have been courage on my part. But it did encourage me enough to indulge in lustful and naughty daydreaming and imaginings.

So taking a bath could become for me a furtive but pleasurable occasion : undressing, drawing water while giving myself a preliminary wash with a soapy finger up the bum, looking through my favored book while the urge to move my bowels built up slowly but inescapably, the relief of letting go and the leisurely soaking afterwards - all these things were interwoven and linked together though I wasn’t conscious of it at the time.

For some reason or other I didn’t inform Aunt Lisa that I was going to take a bath. Why ? I have no idea, though it was probably my guilty conscience. After all, I was quite certain that I was doing something I shouldn’t be doing, though why exactly, I wouldn’t have been able to say.

When I was in the bathroom I draped my night clothes over a chair and lay my little book down. I was already shivering in anticipation as I undressed. I choose a bath oil and poured a generous amount into the tub. After opening the faucets and setting the water to an agreeably hot temperature I took a bar of soap and lathered a washcloth. This I used to wash my genitals and buttocks. Then I rinsed off and dried.

Now it was time to insert a finger up my ass. Once again I lathered up the bar of soap and copiously covered several fingers on my right hand with suds and liquefied soap. I moved up close to the sink and bent over slightly, spreading my legs and pressing my prick against the hard enamel. Slowly I inserted the tip of my finger into my rear hole, wiggling it about a bit. I didn’t stick it all the way through, that I hadn’t done yet. I waited, feeling my anal sphincter contract around my finger. I pulled out and pushed back in several times.

As usual I became aware of a burning feeling around my asshole, a harsh but intimately gratifying irritation of my bowels as they started to contract in reaction to the soap. I rinsed my hands under the faucet and waited for the urge to build up. As I stood, tensed and quivering a sudden thought came to me.

On the shelf in front of me, stood a container with cotton Q-Tips. I imagined one of these inserted into my behind and couldn’t resist the temptation. Up till now I had never inserted anything other than my own finger. I don’t think that it was from lack of imagining. Maybe I had just never found the proper implements. Not that a Q-Tip should be considered ideal mind you. It was just available.

Daringly I took one and rubbed the tip over the bar of soap. I added a little water to lather up some suds and held up the cotton swab in front of me. White cloudy water dripped around my fingers.

Slowly I crouched down and placed the tip up against my bumhole. I pushed in and felt it enter easily. This time I slid it up as far as I could. I again wiggled about, pulled in and out and was rewarded with a distinct and obvious burning inside of my bowels. Apparently this was more efficacious than a finger partway in.

I quickly coated another cotton swab with soap and hurried over to the toilet bowl, sitting down lest I loose control. The cramps came but I rode them out, not yet wanting to give in and forsake further stimulation. It felt too good to end so soon.

I was ready to once again insert a soapy Q-Tip and was positioned slightly above the toilet bowl when I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Alex, are you in there ?”

I was startled out of my reverie, even more so when Aunt Lisa, not waiting for an answer opened up the bathroom door.

I hurriedly plopped back down on the toilet seat and tried to reach for a towel to cover myself. As I did so, the Q-Tip fell out of my slippery hand onto the tiled bathroom floor.

“Whatever are you doing ?”

I was so petrified I didn’t know what to say. I just pressed the towel up against my groin and looked over at the bathtub.

“Are you going to take a bath ? Shouldn’t you have told me ?”

“Uhhh…I don’t have to with…my parents….”

She looked at me, probably not knowing if that was true or not. It wasn’t by the way, but household customs do differ so I suppose she gave me the benefit of the doubt for the moment. She also gave me the ghost of a knowing smile, probably thinking I had been up to something naughty.

Well, on that account she was on the mark, but I think she had a different and more traditional definition of ‘naughty’, envisioning boys feverishly pulling and yanking on their pricks. That was something I had yet to discover. I was a slow learner at times.

“Well, in any case I could help you out you know, wash your back or such.”

What I really wished was for her to clear out, but clearly she had no intention. Instead she went over to the bath and felt the water after turning off the faucets. “Goodness, the temperature is hot. Don’t you think it’s too high ?”

Personally I liked it like that, and besides I allowed for a cooling off period while I sat on the toilet, something which didn’t seem to be bothering her at the moment. Aunt Lisa twirled her hand in the water and held up a mass of sudsy bubbles. Was she thinking I was too old for such frivolities ?

“No, Aunt Lisa, it’s OK. I like it nice and hot.”

She nodded and sat down on the chair where I had laid my grandfather’s medical book. It was in English but apparently the drawings were simple enough for anyone to understand.

“What kind of book is this, Alex ?” She leafed through the pages. “Going to be a doctor when you grow up ?”

Now there was a thought. I just wagged my head non-committedly. I really did wish that she would leave me in peace. At least I had been so startled that any need to move my bowels vanished.

Aunt Lisa then noticed the Q-Tip laying on the tiles in front of me. Probably thinking me a messy boy she clucked as she bent to pick it up. But instead of just throwing it in the waste basket she took a good look at the sodden and soapy cotton swab. To my discomfort there were also several darker spots to be seen.

“My goodness, Alex. Whatever have you been using this for ? Are your ears that dirty ?”

It would have been convenient had she thought so, but from the embarrassed look on my face she guessed otherwise. Understanding dawned and she nodded sagely.

“You’ve stuck this somewhere else, haven’t you ?” She waited making me squirm. “Don’t you think you should tell me where ?”

Now I really reddened and blushed. If I could have I would have flushed myself down the toilet.

“Well…” she gave me a look, “You’ve put this up your behind, haven’t you ?”

I closed my eyes and just waited.

“Look, if there’s something wrong, I want you to tell me so I can take care of it.”

It was then that I realized she was more or less responsible for what I got up to while my parents were away.

“It’s OK, I just have to go….you know…”

“Oh I see…it’s to help you go to the toilet ?”

I nodded hoping she would finally leave the bathroom now. Thankfully though, she seemed somewhat relieved instead of outraged as I had feared. But coupled with the relief was concern. “Alex, if you’re stopped up, you should have told me. I know how to take care of something like that.”

“Please, Aunt Lisa, I’d rather do it myself…please…”

“Nonsense, you had me worried there for a moment. Let me see what I can do …” She stood up and rummaged through our medicine cabinet. Not finding what she wanted she then looked through a cupboard but had no success either.

“Where does your mother keep the things Alex ?” she asked me.

“What things Aunt Lisa ?”

“For when you can’t go.”

I thought she was referring to laxatives. “Somewhere in the cabinet I think. She makes me take something.”

“Oh I see…a pill or something ? A spoonful of oil ?”

I nodded, not very eager and certainly not needing of either.

“Hmmmm…that’s no good now. Doesn’t she have a rubber balloon to use ?”

I was mystified and didn’t know what she was talking about. “A balloon ?” That sounded ridiculous.

“No, I guess not…a pity. Too bad I didn’t know before I came over. Well, no matter. There are other ways.” She stood thinking for a moment. “Maybe your way isn’t so bad either, but I don’t think you should use a cotton tip, Alex. What if it breaks off while it’s in you ?”

That was something I had never thought about. The idea alone sent shivers up my spine.

“Then you’d have to go to a doctor so he could get it out. I don’t think you’d like that.”

I didn’t think so either.

“Do you know how doctors do that ?” I shook my head. “They have an instrument like a metal cone that opens your fanny up, while they look inside of you. If you’re not used to it, it’s not much fun.”

Used to it ? I really wasn’t making much of all this other than that it sounded very unpleasant. It was only many years later that I learned of the nature and uses of speculums, vaginal, rectal or otherwise.

Meanwhile Aunt Lisa continued looking through the cabinet and set some things down on the sink counter. I made out the familiar shape of a Vaseline jar and another small bottle. She also took a fresh bar of soap and set it next to the other two objects.

Nodding to herself she then moved the chair next to the sink and took a clean towel from the rack. “I think this will be adequate for now. Why don’t you come over to me now ?”

I didn’t want to stand up and tried shaking my head.

“It’s all right,” she came to the toilet and took my hand pulling me upright. “Just come along now. We’ll take care of you in no time. Just leave it to me….”

I tried to hold the towel in front of me but Aunt Lisa smiled as she pulled it out of my hands. “You don’t need this dear,” she said sitting down and draping it over her lap.

I tried to cover my prick with my hands but she chuckled and moved them away. “For goodness sakes, there’s no need for that. Why soon you won’t be able to wait to show off to the girls. Might as well start now.”

She gave me a good look while she was at it and moved my semi-erect prick from side to side so she could study the rest of my genitals. Gently she squeezed my sac and commented on the beginning fuzz of pubic hair growth. “My my, soon you’ll be a big boy and your wee-wee will be even bigger than now. How handsome you’ll look when you’re all stiff and hard.”

She playfully gave a yank and a pat on my organ. I wasn’t all that clear on what she was referring to, but instinctively knew that it was indecently lewd and would probably be much fun, though frowned upon by grown-ups. I tried to look away.

“Silly boy, I know what all of you like. I know more than you think.”

She certainly did. It was around this point that I began to experience things in a different light. I lost my sense of acute embarrassment at standing naked in front of Aunt Lisa and even enjoyed the scrutiny and attention she was giving my private parts. It felt nice when she prodded around and handled my prick. So nice that I unconsciously thrust my hips out towards her and opened my legs.

“There we are. See ? You don’t have to be shy with me darling.” She patted her thighs and spread them open. “I want you to lay down now, over my lap. That’s right, just stretch out with your fanny up.” She guided me into position.

I got into a semblance of balance feeling for all the world like a fool with my bottom up in the air and savoring the feeling at the same time. It was disorienting.

As I lay on Aunt Lisa’s thighs she took the jar of Vaseline and dipped her finger into it, bringing out a generous amount of the slippery yellowish ointment. With her left hand she spread my buttocks open and rubbed the lubricant into my previously soaped-up bumhole. As she probed and pushed her digit into my backdoor, I wondered why I had never thought of using Vaseline for this purpose. It certainly greased better and felt cool and soothing as well.

She took her time about it, slowly sticking her finger all the way up into me, twirling it about and feeling around. She not only pumped in and out but retracted her finger entirely and then slowly once again inserted it to the hilt.

“How’s that feel darling ? It doesn’t hurt does it, when I stick my finger into your fanny ?”

Far from it. This was a kind of activity that I relished. Why had I never done this to myself before I wondered ?

“No, it feels good Aunt Lisa,” I daringly replied.

She seemed delighted. “See ? There was no reason at all to be shy on my account. I know that boys like to have something up their behind from time to time. Have you been doing this a lot already ?”

“No, not like this…”

“Are you sure ? I think you’ve put other things than just a small Q-Tip up your fanny. Nothing else ?”

“Just a finger,” I confided.

“I thought so. But it’s all right. Just as long as you do it properly and make sure everything is nice and slippery. Understand ?”

“Yes Aunt Lisa, I understand.”

“Good, because it’s very important you don’t hurt yourself.”

I nodded and lay my head down, luxuriating in the feelings radiating from my bumhole. Meanwhile she added another dollop of Vaseline to her finger and worked that in as well.

“I suppose that’s enough Vaseline for now.” She rinsed her hand and wiped it clean. Then she lathered up a fresh bar of soap after opening up the second small bottle standing on the sink counter.

Just as I had done previously, Aunt Lisa rolled her index finger in the wet soap, coating it abundantly. But instead of inserting her digit directly into me, she first dipped it into the opened bottle. I tried to see what it was.

“It’s all right. I’m just adding a little glycerin. It’s the same thing suppositories are made of, that’s all. It won’t sting or anything and will help make you go. It’s also nice and slippery. Ready now ?”

Without waiting for an answer she worked her finger into my behind. Surprisingly I could feel the difference in substances when she inserted her glycerin covered finger. It felt more slippery and warm. She did this several times, ensuring that a generous amount of the viscous liquid was introduced into my rectum.

“In a little while you’ll start to feel warm inside your fanny, but I want you to wait until I tell you to go. Understand Alex ?”

I nodded.

“Good. To help you I’m going to keep my finger inside of your fanny. All right ?”

I wondered what would have happened had I said no ? But in truth I didn’t care. I think I would have been content to lie there over her lap with a finger up my ass till dawn’s early light. And that was still a long way off.

But I fear I never would have been able to hold out so long. Already I could feel the combination of soap and glycerin work it’s little magic of intestinal irritation. My sphincter began to twitch in response to the build-up of cramping and spasms. With her finger still up my bumhole, Aunt Lisa could feel it as well.

“Feeling anything yet ?” she asked.

“Yes, like I have to go…”

“Good, but I want you to wait a while. Just hold back. Can you do that for me ?”

“I’ll try.”

“You’ll do fine, I‘m sure.”

I suppose I did too, since I was able to wait until Aunt Lisa considered enough time had passed. In the meanwhile though, she kept her finger stuck up my quivering asshole, pressing up into me as she felt my bowels cramp and my muscles tense from the effort of containing myself. To help me out she also pressed my buttocks together with her other hand when the urges to go grew stronger.

I think some fifteen minutes passed like this, until the irritation in my bowels became so strong that I couldn’t contain myself much longer. Aunt Lisa must have sensed the same. She asked if I wanted to go to the toilet now.

“Yes, please….I can’t wait much longer…” I panted.

“All right, but I’ll keep my finger in until you sit down.”

In between spasms, I wriggled off her lap and gingerly stood up, bending through my knees as I scuffled over to the toilet bowl. Aunt Lisa withdrew her finger and I gratefully sat down on the rim.

“Don’t push, wait until it comes of itself,” she advised me. I didn’t have long to wait. Holding back the urge to let go until the last moment, I relented and let the contents of my bowels be expelled in a series of contractions and spasms. Ordinarily I would have been mortified with anyone else present at such a moment. By now I cared little what Aunt Lisa saw or heard.

When it was over I heaved a sigh of relief and satisfaction and slumped over, waiting for my insides to return to normal. After a few minutes I was ready and composed. Gingerly I stood up and quickly wiped myself, flushing the whole mess away.

Aunt Lisa meanwhile turned away from me and busied her self at the sink. If she had really wanted to spare my sensibilities she should have left the bathroom entirely, but I guess she wasn’t planning on that.

Hearing the flushing water she turned around and smiled at me. “All finished ?”

I nodded.

“Wonderful. That felt good didn’t it ?”

It did indeed. Even better than after one of my own private little play sessions.

“See ? I know how to take care of boys. Why don’t you hop into your bath now and I’ll wash your back for you.”

Well, she did more than that as I’m sure you can guess. She not only did my back and front, but also my top and bottom and all regions in between. It was nice getting washed by a lady.

When I was done, I stepped out of the tub feeling sparkling clean and wonderfully relaxed. I toweled dry, brushed my teeth and was told to put on my pajamas.

I wasn’t exactly reluctant to dress, but I had become quite comfortable walking around in the nude around Aunt Lisa.

The rest of the evening passed rather normally I’m afraid, with a bit of TV followed by a small snack and then inevitably bedtime. I didn’t exactly have a hard time falling asleep, but tonight’s experiences with the sitter had been so out of the ordinary that I couldn’t get them out of my mind. I wondered if this sort of thing went on in other households, but for the life of me I couldn’t imagine it.

Of one thing I was sure though : next time Aunt Lisa came over to sit, I would be sure to take a nice hot bath and inform her well ahead of time. But then I figured that she too would come prepared for just such an eventuality.