Bree the Boyless Wonder: The Babysitters, Part 4

by handheld

It's just the first morning, but Bree has more than one surprise in store for Brenda!

(It was summer, so Bree had no school to attend in the mornings. She would rise and ready herself for her mother, usually getting to the kitchen at about the same time as Brenda. Alicia was a much lazier morning person. It took her twice as long as Brenda to get up and moving about. She was lucky most mornings to even get a bite to eat before having to rush off to work. It was why Brenda always rode in separately on her Ducati. Alicia's department might be a little lenient on the chronic tardiness, but Brenda's sure as hell wasn't!)

That first morning was uneventful, except that Brenda walked into the kitchen to find Bree already finished with two Pop-Tarts and staring with deep interest across the kitchen counter at the pictures arranged on the fridge. All were of Alicia and Brenda in various places and states of drunken, happy devotion. Brenda was very carefully male whenever they were out, so those pictures didn't give away her secret. Nevertheless, the way Bree's little brow wrinkled over her bright blue eyes gave Brenda some pause. This kid was really concentrating on something.

"Good morning, little Miss Myers," Brenda said cheerfully, stepping in the path of the girl's gaze and opening the fridge door. "I hope you had a good first night."

Bree grabbed at her glass of milk and nodded happily, "Yes! The bed's nice." She was charmingly chirpy. She almost sounded like a parody of a ten year-old girl, her voice was so highly-pitched.

Brenda found the cream cheese and made herself busy with a bagel. The toaster was between them on the counter, just a little to the side of where Bree sat. Brenda's back was to the fridge and she was no longer blocking Bree's view of it. The girl went back to staring hard at something she saw there.

Brenda tried not to notice. "You have your mom to thank for that bed, you know. I guess you ought to tell her that you like it. I guess." She shrugged, feeling stupid. How could small talk be so hard with a kid? Maybe part of it was because this particular kid slept naked the first night she was a guest in someone's house! Brenda could hardly look at Bree without seeing her as she'd been the night before: asleep, legs spread, delicious.

Bree took another long swig of her milk. Her hair was perfectly combed, straight, and soft-looking. Her thin, translucent ears poked out like little pink sails on the sides of her head. There was a skylight beyond them – it sat above the great room let in a flood of morning sun, and it shone around her head like a halo. Her eyebrows were so white they were nearly invisible. Brenda glanced hard, several times, at Bree's intense eyes, captivated. The blue was deep water ocean reflecting a cloudless summer sky. There were things alive in the depths. There was light so strong upon the surface. There was churning power. Playful cool.

This was a fucking kid?! Brenda once again found herself stunned at how radically her opinion of children – at least this child – was changing.

Bree wore a thin, tight top, almost blindingly white, with spaghetti straps. Her bare shoulders were pleasantly muscular, not bony but athletic. Her nipples stood erect and insistent as they pushed out beneath the shirt, her small puffy breast buds perfectly outlined by the clinging fabric. Brenda leaned over the bagel toaster nonchalantly, trying to look busy. She had enough of an angle to see that the girl wore a short pair of black and white jogging shorts, slit high up the side. She was practically sitting on her bare narrow ass. Just like the night before, she wore no shoes or socks and swung her bare feet casually, carelessly.

Brenda felt her pussy begin to seep. She sighed, smiling tightly as she looked away. Her undies were going to squish around madly as she ground her pussy against her seat all the way to work. Her motorcycle's thrumming was surely going to get her off. She made a note to bring a change of underwear – boy briefs, in her case – and second pair of scrub bottoms with her, in case she was so obviously satisfied by her ride that she needed a change once she got to the parking garage.

She had to stop looking at the girl, though, first-things-first, or she'd have to bring herself off right there at the house and that would make her late!

"I like that one," Bree suddenly chimed, nodding her head at one of the pictures on the fridge. She raised her glass to finish the rest of her milk. Brenda could sense the girl looking at her as she turned to find the right picture.

"Which one? There are so many..." Brenda mumbled, an ache rising in her throat. She knew, of course, which one Bree had found. Dammit! How could they have left that one out? The two of them were at Apollo Beach, a dune rising behind them. There was no one else in sight.

The camera had been self-timed and set on their cooler, framing them just from their waists up. But they were nude. It was obvious. They had that completely contented, abundantly joyful look of the naked in nature.

Brenda's chest was fully visible, but with her broad shoulders and well-muscled pectorals, the only thing vaguely feminine about her was her fatter-than-normal nipples, which in the shot were fully erect. Otherwise, Brenda was Ben, just like always, a handsome man on the beach. Alicia's torso was twisting into Brenda's – Alicia had been the one to set the camera and jump back into the shot. Only one of her breasts was visible, but it was perfectly outlined against Brenda's upper arm, the roundest, sweetest, tastiest profile of a breast that a ten year-old girl could have ever seen.

Brenda held her breath and turned to look back at Bree. The girl was staring straight at her and smiling slyly. She said very simply, "I think you two must be very, very naughty."

Bree held Brenda's panicked gaze for a long moment before the woman managed to clear her throat and go back to her bagel.

"You're both naked in that picture. Aren't you?" Bree insisted. "Like, totally naked on a beach!"

Damn. Brenda could only blush and shrug, trying to smile in a cool adult sort of way. She was terrified to meet Bree's eyes. But before the moment had stretched too awkwardly for too long, Bree's mother was at the door. It was time for the girl to go home.

Annette let herself in, asking how things had been, and Brenda played it off perfectly. "No sweat, easy-peasy! She's a perfect angel."

Bree's mother laughed at that and winked at Brenda. "Well, she's a ten year-old, remember? I'm sure you'll be seeing her Hannah Montana side soon enough!" Bree had come to the door and hugged her mother, burying her face in her scrub top, burrowing between her big breasts. Annette ruffled her hair and looked down affectionately. "But still, her crazy-kid moments are really pretty tame! She's probably as close to an angel as we're going to get!"

Bree then remembered that she'd forgotten her duffel bag in her room and ran back to get it. Annette confirmed that evening's drop-off time with Brenda, thanked her, and then went back to her car to wait, leaving Brenda in limbo, her bagel forgotten. Then Bree rushed back by, her flip-flops in one hand and her duffel bag in the other. She stopped suddenly and came back into the house just as Brenda was moving out of the kitchen to close the front door. Brenda stopped, thinking the girl had forgotten something else.

But Bree went straight at Brenda. She shot up on her tippy-toes and threw her flip-flop hand around Brenda's neck, pulling at her, leaning in to kiss her soundly on the mouth, working just the tip of her tongue between Brenda's lips. It was over in an instant. Before Brenda could even move, Bree had released her and was bouncing out the door, grinning wildly.

"See you tonight, Ben!" Bree giggled, then disappeared into her mother's idling Corolla.