EXTRACT FOR
Babysitter's Dirty Desire
(Alana Church)

It was Beverly. It had to be Beverly. Who else could it be? But this was a Beverly he had never seen before. Not the shy teenager he had first met three years ago. And not the lovely, composed young woman she had grown into, as skilled with a pencil as with his daughter.



No, this was a Beverly ripped straight out of the pages of a pulp magazine from the fifties. The dress she was wearing, ivory with bright red polka-dots and a scarlet sash around the waist, might have started life as something simple and classy. But it clung as if molded to the young woman's chest, and not even the high, white collar could hide the twin peaks of her breasts, thrusting out boldly as if they would like to tear right through the cloth and escape into the open air. And the skirt was on the wrong side of scandalous, barely reaching the top of Beverly's thighs.



"Hello, sweetheart," Beverly said, her voice barely above a whisper. As she sauntered forward, Graham could not help but notice the black fishnets that wound up her legs, or the high-heeled pumps that gave her stride a sexy sway. "Welcome home."



She reached up with her mouth, her lips sliding sensually above his. Not a kiss, not really. More like an invitation.



"Beverly..." he croaked.



"I have your dinner all ready," she said, pressing a cold bottle of beer into his hand. "Just give me a minute while I set the table."



"Dinner?" And now his nose, which had been shunted aside by his eyes, clamored for attention. A thick, heady aroma filled the air. Rich and moist and strong, it made his stomach gurgle. "I didn't ask you..."



"Pot roast," Beverly smiled, taking his hand. Graham shivered as her fingers caressed his teasingly. "With potatoes and onions and carrots.



"But what was I thinking?" The young woman blinked at him in dismay. "You've been so busy at work, so worried and stressed. And I haven't even offered you a welcome-home blow-job!" Her fingers trailed suggestively down his shirt until they reached his belt buckle. He hitched in a startled breath as they lingered over his groin. "Would you like me to give you one now?"



Graham's mouth worked helplessly. "Vivian..." he managed.



"Is sound asleep. I checked on her just a few minutes ago." And now she was massaging him through his jeans, her hot fingers bringing his cock to rapid, roaring arousal. "Please, Graham. I want to give you a blow-job. To feel you fill my mouth up with your cum." The blond-haired woman licked her lips lasciviously. "Just once?"



He couldn't think. Not with her fingers touching him that way. "If...if that's what you really want," he found his mouth saying.



Beverly's lips curled up. "What I really want is a lot more than that. But I'll give you some time to get used to the idea." As she spoke, her fingers undid his belt and unsnapped the button of his jeans. The younger woman gracefully lowered herself to her knees, the ivory of her skirt barely concealing the shapely curves of her rear.



"Oh, Graham." As his jeans and boxers hit the floor, Beverly reached out, running a single finger up the underside of his shaft. "You are absolutely divine." His cock lurched, straining with need, and a pearlescent drop appeared at the tip. "How do you like it?"