Don't Tell Mom!






































 Art Michael Kirwan

 Story by Peter Pernicious





— Originally published in Playguy magazine - March, 1992 —


Don't Tell Mom!

The Babysitter's Gay!


This is a little embarrassing to admit, but even though I'm already eighteen, my mom still thinks I need supervision whenever she and Dad spend an evening away from home. I would die if any of my buddies from school found out; none of them have to have chaperones when their folks are away. But my situation's a little different.

About four years ago, my parents went on a ski holiday in Vermont and left me in charge of taking care of my twin brothers Billy and Buster, who were ten at the time. I guess Mom and Dad thought I could handle these two little mischief-makers, since none of our relatives are fool enough to take them in. Anyway, I got stuck with the Twin Terrors, who poisoned the neighbors' dog, shot bee-bees at the milkman, and almost burned down our house while lighting sparklers when Mom and Dad were away.

Needless to say, that was the last time I was a trusted servant. The twins are fourteen now, and more of a handful than ever. Even though I'm en route to college, I guess my parents figured I could use some help on the home front while they took a vacation. So they hired a college student on summer break named Sven to be our "babysitter."

At first, I resented him completely. Why did our parents invite a stranger into our home, especially a foreign exchange student from Sweden who spoke fractured English? But Sven was built like an ice hockey skater, tall and husky. His hands appeared to be goalie's mitts, so wide was their stretch. And his long, powerful legs made the floor shake as he walked.

Was I intimidated by him? Sure, but--truth be told--he turned me on a whole fuckin' lot with those big blue eyes, shaggy blond hair and ham-hock arms and legs. At eighteen, I'd sampled a little snatch, but I was curious to try some dick, too — something else I could never tell my buddies. Who knew what Sven was into, but I'd heard that Europeans were a lot more open-minded about sex than Americans. Maybe having a babysitter from Sweden for a couple of weeks would be a cultural exchange I'd remember for the rest of my life!

Not surprisingly, the first day Mom and Dad were away, the twins tried to see how far they could push Sven. Bedtime was supposed to be ten o'clock for them, but Billy started bitching that his favorite TV show didn't start until then and refused to go to sleep. Meanwhile, Buster had snooped into Sven's personal belongings and found a real raunchy magazine that had girls with guys, girls with girls, guys with guys and some combinations I'd never even thought of before!

"I'm gonna tell Mom! I'm gonna tell Dad!" the twins began chanting as they ran around the living room with Sven's magazine. "Sven is a pervert. Sven is a pervert," they sang out.

"You are very naughty young men," Sven sternly said, his brow furrowed. He was not in the least embarrassed with their discovery, only annoyed at their obvious disregard for his personal property. "Ven I was your age, my fadder vuld have sent me to my room for stealing his tings. Und so I am going to do da same as he vuld. Get to your room now!" The no-nonsense way he bellowed the last word "now!" made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Still, the twins held their ground, now ripping out pages of the magazines and crumpling them up.

Sven's blue orbs grew wide, his nostrils flared and his teeth gnashed like some vengeful comic book character come to life. I could tell the shit was gonna hit the fan. With one powerful leap, Sven was on top of Buster, who collapsed under him with a thud. Billy came to the aid of his twin in distress, hopping on top of Sven' s massive back and pounding him with his fists.

"Get off my brother, you stupid Swede!" he yelled. "Wait till my parents hear about this!"

But before either twin could protest further, Sven had managed to get to his feet and pick up Billy with one hand and Buster with the other, holding them up by their collars the way I'd seen mother cats carrying their kittens by the scruffs of their necks.

"Peter, help us!" they called out to me, flailing helplessly under the blond Goliath. I just smiled and waited to see what the ever-inventive Sven would do next. As if my prayers had been answered, he dragged one into their shared bedroom, and one into my parents' bedroom, locking the doors of each as he exited. Separated, the twins were less of a problem. Their cries for help fell on our deaf ears.

"Wow!" I said when Sven returned to the living room. "That was really impressive. Those two never listen to anyone."

"Vell, dey vill listen to me," he replied assuredly. Then he walked over to where Buster and Billy had ravaged his magazine, picked it up and examined the damage. "Und dis was my favorite too," he said sadly. "I don't tink American magazines are so, how do you say, exciting, do you, Peter?"

Since, I'd never seen many porno mags, European or American, my points of reference were limited. But I didn't want Sven to think I was completely naive, so I hunched my shoulders and walked over to where he was holding the crinkled periodical out toward me. "Yeah," I agreed, trying to sound as porn-savvy as possible, "this is definitely a lot hotter than what you'd see in Playboy."

As I looked through the pages of the magazine, staring open-mouthed at some of the outrageously graphic photographs, I felt Sven looking me over and blushed. He stepped up behind me, looming over me by a good foot and a half. "Vich pictures do you like da best, Peter?" he inquired, his body pressing into my back and ass as he looked over my shoulder.

"Gee, they're all pretty, uh, special." I heard my voice quavering, my nervousness betraying me.

"Do you like dat vun?" he asked, pointing a gnarly finger at a photo of two women clamped mouth-to-mouth on each other's pussy.

"That's nice," I said indifferently. He pressed up against me a little closer. I thought I felt something long and hard rubbing at my butt.

"Vhat about dis vun?" he asked, turning the page and directing my attention to two men stuffing a pretty blonde woman's nether regions with their boners.

"Yeah, that's better." Now, I was getting a little breathless. My knees felt weak and my cock was leaving a wet spot in my underwear.

"Und how about dis?" Sven had thumbed to the back of the magazine, where page after page was devoted to really pumped-up young guys with long, hard clicks. My mouth went dry as I examined them in the throes of ecstasy, cocks thrust down each other's throats and asses, tongues buried deep in butt cheeks hard as marble. Words escaped me, but body language didn't. As Sven reached over my shoulder to turn the pages with one hand, his other one snaked inside my shirt and pinched one of my nipples. "Mmm," was all I could say, but my dick was rigid and my ass began grinding back against his battering ram. "Do not say anything," he murmured in my ear. "Just do as I tell you." Suddenly, he dropped the magazine and picked me up as effortlessly as he'd done with the twins. The room spun around me and the next thing I knew I was on the sofa with Sven on top of me, kissing me with his thick, juicy lips and insistent tongue. Those goalie's mitt-hands were stripping me at the same time while my back arched up to meet his dry-humping hips .

"Dat's it, Peter ... Sven's going to show you vhat sex vid men is all about."

"What about the twins?" I managed to blurt out.

"Do not vorry about dem. Be qviet und da TV vill cover up da noise."

Those words, as I recall, were the last spoken between us until we finished our "sex vid men." Every other sound was grunts and groans while L.A. Law played in the background with the volume turned up high.

As Sven had instructed, I let him lead me through my paces. Once we were naked, he let me stare in awe at his beautifully proportioned body. He flexed unabashedly for me, his biceps, his quadriceps, his pecs ... he even bent over, spread his cheeks and clenched and unclenched his pretty pink asshole for me, tickling it provocatively with the tip of his middle finger.

Saliva was dripping from my mouth. He turned around and fisted his cock in the direction of my mouth. Its length and width frightened me; there was no way I could accommodate anything that big. But before I could back out, he took my head in his hands and hoisted my face up to his cock-head. I opened my mouth and it slipped in like a salty lollipop.

In and out, in and out, he stroked my mouth with his pecker. Every time he thrust in, he sought to plow deeper into my throat, until I could feel his pubic hair brushing against my lips.

Once he was satisfied that I could deep-throat him, Sven pulled his spit-slick rod out of my mouth and sat down next to me on the sofa. Now what? I wondered.

He pushed me to a standing position, and turned me around so that I was no longer facing him. I felt one of his fingers on my butthole. Then it wiggled itself in up to the second knuckle.

The invader didn't feel so good in the beginning. But whenever I tried to pull back away from it, Sven's other hand reached under my ball sack to my cock and stroked me reassuringly. Almost reflexively I found myself bending back and pushing my butt down harder on his finger. Pretty soon he had two, then three, fingers sawing away, and I felt real wet inside.

He abruptly pulled out and my hole felt empty and cold. His hands circled my hips and yanked me down to where he was sitting. Since my back was to him, I couldn't see what was happening. But I knew I was about to get fucked for the first time--"cherry pickin,'" my buddies called it.

Since my hole had been stretched but good by Sven's fingers, I hardly flinched when I felt the crown of his cock bump against my little rosebud. He moaned deeply as his hips thrust up just enough to insert that crown into my ass. That I felt! I must have screamed, because he smacked my ass and said something to me in Swedish that sounded like he meant business.

Gradually, the pain went away and, like his fingers, I began to enjoy the anal intrusion. This time my cries were of total arousal. But before I could get too carried away, Sven stuffed some of his fat fingers into my mouth to muffle my joyful cries.

Once he knew I was into it, Sven pushed me onto the floor on my knees and positioned me rump-high. He straddled my ass and rode it a long, long time, until I started to push back further and further onto his dick. I buried my head in the carpet and wiggled my butt back to let him know how good it felt.




























Whenever it seemed I was gonna cum, Sven knocked my pud-pulling hand away from my drooling dick and pumped me belly-down, so there was no way I could touch myself. Still, the pressure of his prick on my prostate was too much. Finally, I couldn't hold back anymore and sprayed Mom's orange pile carpeting with long ropes of cum.

After I blew, Sven pulled out and put the head of his dick at my lips. I opened up my mouth to say something, and it was immediately filled with his creamy jism. He let me suck on his deflating cock for a few minutes, then pulled it out and pulled me to my feet.

"Bedtime, Peter," he said. "Tomorrow ve have lots of vork to do around da house. "

Disappointed that fun-time was over so soon, I hung back a moment. "Can't we do this again?" I asked.

"Sure, sure," he said. "Und vhen your mudder and Ładder come home, vhat are you going to tell dem?"

"What a good babysitter you are! And how well you managed the twins! Next time, though, you'd better hide your magazines where they can't get to them?"

"Yes, yes, Peter. But if dey hadn't found dem, how vuld you ever have found out about sex vid men?"



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