Falling for the Babysitter

She blushes. “If you saw me watching you, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you.” I smile. “And I kind of liked the attention.”

We squeeze through the space between the bushes. The small clearing is just wide enough to fit our bodies. As soon as we’re hidden, I kiss her. Her arms wrap around my neck, our tongues at war.

I slip my hands beneath her dress, unable to restrain myself any longer. Her panty-clad ass cheeks fit perfectly into my hands. But I want to feel her skin against mine so I slip my hands beneath the fabric and massage. Those beautiful breasts press up against me. The fabric of her dress is so thin I can feel her hard nipples beneath them. I can’t take it anymore. I need her naked. In one quick motion, I’m slipping the dress up over her head. I then slip her panties off.

Her breasts are magnificent. So perky they defy gravity, small areolas and bright pink nipples. I slip one into my mouth while I tease the other one with my fingers. Her moaning sounds drive me crazy. I fight back the animal inside of me that wants to spread her apart and pound its way inside of her. I have to keep reminding myself that up until yesterday she was still a virgin and her body might not be ready for that kind of ravishing yet.

Instead, I take my time, making sure she feels good. I slip my fingers between her folds.

“Damn, you’re so wet,” I say.

likes you,” she says as if her

too. So

against my fingers. I groan, knowing how fantastic that would feel against my dick. In due time, I remind myself. Those muscles will flex even stronger when I make her come, and to

start to massage with the tips of my fingers, hooking them, pushing them. Watching Remy’s face as I do this, her eyes grow wide, mouth open,

be hanging around nearby. The last thing I need is for Sam to be wandering around. It’s very possible

kiss when her cries die down. “Fuck you’re tight,” I say when I try to enter a third finger but it won’t

so good,”

body becomes rigid and she starts to spasm. That’s when I really start to pound my fingers into her. Again, my mouth clamps onto hers when she starts to scream. She becomes a puddle in my arms, her muscles spent and weakening from the orgasm. I lay her down on the sundress beneath her. When she finally comes down off her high, she looks

at her. She has leaves in her

had with Sam, she’s probably mentally drained. “That was incredible,” she says. “Why don’t orgasms ever feel like that when

her, frantically rubbing, trying to reach that brief