QSA Tribute: The Babysitter

[Weapon X]

Sigh... I wish my babysitter would have found a sandbox like this. Now, if only my wife and I could find it.

[vrekandis]

"Do you remember that time, when you were 4 years old and I was babysitting you, I was stuck in the sand like it was quicksand?"

She shifted her hips slightly in the warm ooze, only barely suppressing her shiver as she settled an inch or so deeper. The coarser sand and silt had formed a light crust on top of the smoother, sticker clay beneath.

Even now, a decade and a half later, the memory of the sight of the woman standing in front of her being slowly engulfed in warm, undulating ooze woke her up at night with a gasp. It was that memory which had first fueled her early explorations in the swamps and marshes a few miles from her home in early puberty, and which had sent her online, first at school and later on her own computer at home. She remembered the rush of gleeful, almost orgasmic euphoria she had felt the first time she had typed that wonderful, delicious, *forbidden* word into Google's search field, found the bulletin board and the other sites, and finally realized that there WERE people just like her out there--other people who saw the swamps, mires and bogs not as life-threatening places of hazard and danger, but as private amusement parks full of quiet wonders and hidden, secret pleasures. And on each and every secret excursion, that magnificent memory had been the one to finally send her over the edge.

Did she remember? What a ridiculous question. How could she forget?

She pointed her toes downward as experience had long taught her, and the thick, cool ooze yielded to her, it's grip tight as a vice, yet soft as silk and smooth as lotion around her legs. She sank down a little more, feeling the wet silt gratefully enfold her buttocks like strong, smooth hands. She bit her lip and this time, she couldn't stifle her moan, or the little involuntary roll of her hips.

She glanced up and saw her captor had seen it too. She was biting her own lower lip, just a bit. She let her hips roll slowly, sending her down inch by exquisite inch, until she could both of her hands flat on the soft, coarse surface. She looked up at her former babysitter with a sly expression.

"Of course I remember," she said. She wiggled her hips a bit, and the mire rippled. She held a slender hand up and out to the older woman. Truly, she was still as beautiful as she remembered, all those years ago.

"And you know," she said softly. "I'm not a little girl anymore."

And after only a moment's hesitation, the older woman gently took her small, smooth hand in both of hers, and stepped forward.