David Crane - Wide-open babysitter

When Belinda thought that Mrs. Jenkins was the sort of woman who might have a vibrator or dildo, she didn't know the half of it, for Amanda Jenkins was a very sexy woman, indeed – as her husband, James, was thinking while he watched her getting dressed for the evening.

They were going to a party.

Belinda had not arrived yet – it was still early – but Amanda had started getting ready in plenty of time. James had finished shaving and come out of the bathroom wearing only his shorts. He paused and looked at his wife appreciatively. She was, sitting on the edge of the bed, putting her stockings on. Except for her black garter belt she was naked.

She was unaware of her husband's presence and yet, even believing herself to be alone, her movements were as erotic as if she had been doing a striptease. She rolled the nylon stocking up her calf with sensual grace. Her hands seemed to be caressing her flesh with narcissistic pleasure.

James grinned.

He wore boxer shorts sand the fly of those shorts began to gap open as a result of the swelling activity that bad started to take place within.

Everything about Amanda was erotic.

She was tall and willowy and graceful. Her legs were long and sleek. As she bent down, her tits were like ripe fruit, ready to be plucked, firm and succulent and capped by large, dark nipples that were constantly stiff. She had a mane of dark, curly hair worn in an intricate style, with ringlets and coils, and her pubic bush was an echo of that ebony hair, a wide wedge of thick, black hair that curled far out towards her hipbones and sent a slender tendril up to her belly button. She was smooth as satin and suntanned evenly, without the pale patches that a bathing suit would have left.

James watched her snap the strap of the garter belt to the stocking.

He was pleased that she wore stockings, instead of the fashionable pantyhose that so many women wore these days – and which made them look as smooth-crotched as plastic dolls. But he realized that she did not wear the stockings for his pleasure as much as for her own, for she really loved to look and feel sexy and sensual. He had often found her posing, naked, before the full-length mirror – and sometimes running her hands over her tits or up her inner thighs in a caress of self-appreciation.

She began to roll the other stocking on.

The head of James' cock poked out of the fly of his shorts as it hardened.

He was staring at her big, stiff, succulent nipples and his mouth had started to water for them.

She shifted slightly.

He saw her cunt.

The slit was wet and parted. It bisected the dark pubic mound like a pink river running through a thick jungle. Her clit was as stiff as her nipples. He wondered if she had made herself hot simply by the act of rolling those stockings up her legs.

His prick slipped all the way out from his fly, standing like a baton before his belly – a big prick that reached almost to his breastbone when fully erect. His balls were large in proportion – which was why he wore boxer shorts, instead of constricting briefs.

He wondered if there was time for a fuck before the baby-sitter arrived.

They fucked a lot, Amanda and James. She was twenty-seven. He was thirty. They were both horny.

Usually, but not always, they fucked each other.

Amanda had fastened the other stocking. She was still not aware of her husband, standing in the doorway with a hard-on jutting from his shorts. She was looking down at her own body. She cupped one plump tit in her hand, lifting the mound as if judging its weight.

She smiled.

Her thumb slipped across the nipple, causing it to push out even more.

The sight thrilled James and his prick, fully erect now, started to thunder.

The knob was glowing with heat and had Amanda not been concentrating so hard on her own body, she would no doubt have seen that meaty slab flashing.

But when she was intent on her own charms, the narcissistic lady noticed little else.

Now – James gasped – she moved her hand down to her plump crotch, running the tip of her middle finger slowly up her wet, parted slit.

"Ummmm," she sighed.

She fucked her vibrant clit.

James would have normally kept quiet, intrigued at the sight of his sultry wife playing with her pussy and tits, but his prick was rampaging now and he wanted to get a fuck in before the baby-sitter interrupted them.

He coughed lightly.

Amanda looked up, surprised.

But she was not in the least embarrassed at having been caught playing with her pussy and she gave her clit another flick before drawing her hand away.

When she noticed the state of his cock, she smiled.

"Ummmm," she said. "That looks good." She shifted on the bed so that she was facing him, her thighs parted. Her slit was flooded with cunt juice, either from her fingering or the sight and expectation of his prick or, most likely, a combination of the two. She gazed lovingly at his big cock. She adored his prick and she loved the way it invariably reacted when he saw her naked. Amanda had always been a narcissist. When a man wanted her she was inclined to want him, in return, simply because he wanted her rather than through any particular desire for his body. She used pricks to pleasure herself.

Now she narrowed her eyes and said, "I won't allow you to go to the party in that condition, darling. All the women would be after you if they saw the size of that lump bulging in your trousers."

"What do you propose to do with it, then?" he asked, halting a few feet from her.

"Why, I'd better empty it, hadn't I?"

"What a good idea!"

"But how?" she speculated, teasingly. "I haven't put my lipstick on yet – so I suppose I could suck it off…"

James said, "Ahhh…"

"On the other hand, I haven't put my panties on yet, either, so you could empty it up my cunt, as well."

James didn't care where he emptied his prick, as long as he got it emptied.

He pushed his hips out, offering it to her, letting her decide whether to lean forward and take it into her mouth or fall back and present her pussy.

Amanda licked her lips, as if prejudging what that hot slab would taste like.

"I think perhaps I'll…" And the doorbell rang. "Dam!" James said.

He looked at his wristwatch.

"The little bitch is early," he said.

Little did he know – and it truly would have excited him had he known – that Belinda had come early because she was impatient and eager to finger-fuck herself in his bedroom.

"Will you let her in, honey?" Amanda asked.

"Yeah. But – don't put any more clothing on while I'm gone – or lipstick, as the case may be."

"Oh, James – we can't fuck with her here. You know what a loud fuck I am, darling. And the bed squeaks a little. She'd know what we were doing!"

"Who cares?"

"James, she'd only a kid."

The bell rang again.

James cross and annoyed, snatched up his bathrobe and pulled it on. It stuck out in the front, for his prick was still hard, despite the distraction.

He said, "Well, you'll just have to suck me off, then, baby, I'll be as quiet as I can – and you won't be able to make much noise with a cock down your gullet."

Amanda smiled.

"All right," she whispered and, concluding the words, her lips formed a little round circle, as if to show him just how they would form around his pecker.

James grinned, satisfied. He went downstairs.

Belinda had not changed her clothes.

She still wore the sexy, tight fitting tee shirt and the scandalously brief shorts. Walking over, her cunt had felt like an ember smoldering between her slim thighs and she had heard the cunt juice squish as she stepped. Thinking about Tommy, she hadn't really considered the effect that her garb would have on James Jenkins.