Babysitters
Dazbrilliantwhites asks: You've had them and maybe even have been one. Or maybe you were once babysat by someone who is now a notorious serial killer. Tell us your stories.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:15)
Dazbrilliantwhites asks: You've had them and maybe even have been one. Or maybe you were once babysat by someone who is now a notorious serial killer. Tell us your stories.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:15)
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Not really babysitting, but...
...as a stude in Brighton, one sunny day at the beach I was trying desperately to flirt with the studentess I'd been trying to get together with for six months, to no avail.
A couple of small kids were playing nearby, with no sign of any parents around. Studentess and I went from keeping a quiet eye on them to playing various beach games, about half of which involved the little boy and girl taking it in turns to ride around on me while I pretended to be a horse and my lovely sloe-eyed paramour giggled indulgently. (The other half of the time both of the little tinkers sat on me.)
Talking to them, it turned out they'd snuck away while their mum wasn't looking and come about three miles by themselves. We cajoled a phone number out of the older of the two and phoned their mum, who'd been out of their mind with worry, and arranged to come down to pick them up. Which she later did.
It was only as the little boy - who'd been riding on my shoulders on the way back up to street level (Marine Parade, if you know it), while the little girl walked hand-in-hand with my gal-pal - got into his mum's car that I noticed the frankly enormous and suspiciously fresh-looking skidmarks on the back of his swimming trunks.
I washed my neck for about an hour after that.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 14:49, 2 replies)
...as a stude in Brighton, one sunny day at the beach I was trying desperately to flirt with the studentess I'd been trying to get together with for six months, to no avail.
A couple of small kids were playing nearby, with no sign of any parents around. Studentess and I went from keeping a quiet eye on them to playing various beach games, about half of which involved the little boy and girl taking it in turns to ride around on me while I pretended to be a horse and my lovely sloe-eyed paramour giggled indulgently. (The other half of the time both of the little tinkers sat on me.)
Talking to them, it turned out they'd snuck away while their mum wasn't looking and come about three miles by themselves. We cajoled a phone number out of the older of the two and phoned their mum, who'd been out of their mind with worry, and arranged to come down to pick them up. Which she later did.
It was only as the little boy - who'd been riding on my shoulders on the way back up to street level (Marine Parade, if you know it), while the little girl walked hand-in-hand with my gal-pal - got into his mum's car that I noticed the frankly enormous and suspiciously fresh-looking skidmarks on the back of his swimming trunks.
I washed my neck for about an hour after that.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 14:49, 2 replies)
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