1. Babysitter part 1
2. Babysitter part 2

This is an ongoing series. Now, it's Molly's turn.

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That first night together was nothing short of pure bliss for me. Ever since then I have been touching myself every night thinking of you. I knew that you were a busy man and didn’t always have time for me, so I made sure not to be too forward. I know a man needs his space and time. But that didn’t mean that you didn’t light an insatiable flame in between my legs. I lay in bed reeling in my abandonment issues because every night that you came home and went to sleep I felt like I had lost my father figure in my life all over again. I felt deeply unwanted and forgettable. But then, I finally took the leap and matters into my own hands.

You were working late at your office one night. It was 10 PM when I glanced at the clock after wiping down your dining table for the fifth time. At least as I scrubbed away at every last grease stain, I felt useful. But I was going out of my mind waiting in that house for you to come home. Your wife was somewhere upstairs and I grabbed the keys to drive to your office. 

The sight of you in your dimly lit empty office, shoulders hunched, pouring over your papers in front of a screen makes my heart swell with affection. I think about how hard you must be working, for so long, choosing to stay back long hours just so that you can be the ideal provider for your family. I can’t think of a more perfect man than you. 

I walk into your office. I’m wearing my short shorts, the legs of which curve upwards and there's a tiny slit on each side revealing even more of my thighs. Whenever I wear these around the house, you can’t stop staring at me. You literally stare like an old man who hasn’t seen a beautiful woman in his life. But I know you have. I know how sexy your wife is. I also know how the neighborhood moms talk about you. You know there’s a group chat where they share their fantasies about you? You’re the no. 1 husband/man that they would be willing to risk their marriages for to just have sex with one time. I knew what you had at your disposal, and so your attention meant all the more to me. 

I step into your office and you look up, a look of shock on your face to see me. Then you notice my pants and your eyes never leave them. “Oh my God Molly. What are you doing here?”

As always I’m not wearing a bra. But I’ve intentionally worn an oversized pink T-shirt, to hopefully strike your imagination and maybe frustrate you. 

“Mr. White, have you looked at the time?” I ask him, with my hand on my hip, as though I’m playfully admonishing a young boy who’s stayed up past his bedtime. “It’s 10:45. It’s time for you to relax, go home, and be taken care of. You’ve done just enough.” 

“Did my wife send you to get me?” You look confused and a little flustered as I see you try hard to keep being the gentleman you are. But there’s something about these silky grey-black shorts that throws your self control out the window and brings out the inner, primal man in you. I couldn’t love that more about you. You try to maintain eye contact with me and I give you credit for that. But it’s just eye exercise for you at this point. As your gaze travels up and down, up to my eyes and down to my crotch area. Oh, my T-shirt is cropped by the way - as loose as it is - and I know you can see a sliver of my skin just where my pubic area starts. I know you don’t realize it, but you keep licking your lips and swallowing. 

“No, Mr. White. Your wife did not send me to get you. But do you really think she’s the only woman in your life who cares about you?” 

I walk over to you and you lean back in your chair, rolling away from the desk and leaving quite a bit of space between yourself and the desk. A cozy little nook for me to fit myself into and do the unmentionable. But we are not there yet. I know that if I am too forward with you or act too slutty, you’ll pull away from me. I know how good you are at maintaining decorum and discipline and seeing the nastiness in me will make it easier for you to retreat into your cave. 

I stand behind you and smooth my hands across your shoulders, speaking to you in a soft voice. “Oh I bet these muscles are tense, Mr. White.” You’re still so surprised by the events of the last couple of minutes that you forget what to think or feel or say. It gives me the opportunity to continue, “I’m not the best at this, but I could give you a shoulder massage? Ease you up a bit.” While your stiffness is a bit disappointing, it's not all that surprising since what we had might as well have been a one-off thing.

You manage to reply after clearing your throat, “Yes, that would be nice Molly. Although, I pay you to babysit my kids you know, not me. But I appreciate the help and a massage actually sounds like a very nice offer actually.” 

A rush of giddiness hits me as I bask in your praise and encouragement. I place myself directly behind you with a clear view of your crotch. I want to see the exact moment your bulge starts to rise. I knew that won’t be easy and it makes me nervous. But given that I had seen you get a hard on, the day I was wearing these shorts last time, I have hope. I was clearing up the coloring books and crayons that were scattered across your coffee table while you watched TV. I kept having to crouch down to pick things up and get back up to put them in a box. With each squat, I knew my ass would come uncomfortably near your face. I found myself wishing that you’d spank me. Or fondle me. At the very least I hoped that you would find a silly excuse to move my ass out of the way since I was clearly blocking your view of the TV. Even though I was left disappointed, I guess you didn’t mind the view on offer after all.

I did glance at you in between each squat and as I fixed things around the TV room and saw your rising hard on. At first I think you fought it, and tried rearranging yourself on the couch. Then, you accepted that your erection was here to stay and you hid it by leaning forward, as though you were attentively watching the game. I’m assuming you were waiting for it to pass. And when it didn’t, you finally just took the cushion next to you and covered yourself. I sensed a look of frustration and annoyance on you. You didn’t like being tempted and teased by me. I could see you want me and fight to not want me. From that moment on, I prayed that you’d lose the fight soon one day. After I was done cleaning up, I joined you to watch the match, sitting at the far end of the couch. I looked at you periodically, admired the chiseled cut of your jaw, your freshly trimmed beard. I knew you knew that I was staring, but I figured it was only normal for me to have a crush on you and that you wouldn’t mind. That I didn’t have any reason to hide it. The game lasted another 40 minutes and you never stopped gripping onto that cushion, placed above your crotch. 

I still don’t know how you feel about me overall, if anything, but I know that the way your body feels about my body is a whole other thing. One that you don’t have much control over. I start lightly, placing my fingers on your neck. I gently trace lines up and down your neck, before adding pressure and using my thumbs to press down from the bottom of your hairline to the beginning of your back. I do this a couple of times, before spreading my hands all across the width of your shoulders, relishing the feel of your strong, taut muscles. I grip on to your shoulders, digging my nails into them for a second before rolling my hands around them over and over with increasing pressure.

Such big, strong shoulders you have Mr. White, I think to myself but can’t bring myself to say it. I lean down, bringing my face closer to your yours as I keep working with my hands on your back. Stretching the skin and kneading out your muscles from your neck to the shoulders… back and forth. Back and forth. I bring my body closer to yours as I lower my hands down your two arms, continuing the massage. My nipples are erect, they usually always are around you and I press them to your back and slowly rub against you, hoping that you can feel them through the thin cotton fabric. You let out a few sighs of relief and say, “wow Molly, seems like you are worth more than we pay you for.” You say this as you lean your head slightly back and look into my eyes. I sense a level of degradation in your look and voice, as though you are trying to demean me. I am equal parts hurt, ashamed and surprised to find out that I am turned on by your insinuation. 

I keep dutifully working your upper body - emboldened by a new sense of purpose as you relax further into your chair, slouching downwards and spreading your legs apart. To my disappointment though, I don’t see any rising bulge. That does not deter me as my primary focus is to please you, comfort you, in whatever way required. I get a little naughty and act like my cropped shirt slipped up on its own and rub my naked tits on your back. If you notice it, you don’t give me the satisfaction of letting me know. 

After a while, you turn your face towards me, eyes still closed as though you could just drift off to sleep anytime now. Now, I finally see a stir in your pants and I genuinely feel like a kid in a candy store. In a sleepy voice you whisper, “So Molly, you seem pretty dedicated to your employer. But are you someone who just impresses or someone who goes above and beyond?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. White.” I coo innocently. 

“What I mean Molly, is a massage all I’m really getting?” 

I look at your face in excitement and awe. It’s such a handsome face and your lips look so kissable. I feel a rush in between my legs and lose momentum in the massage I am giving you as I stumble. I stop moving and give your lips a soft peck. I am dying to do more than just that but I want even more to know that you want me to kiss you. 

“There. That’s a kiss for being such a good, responsible man. I admire your dedication to contributing to your family and building your business so much, Mr. White.”

“Well then Molly I have a piece of feedback for you.” You open your eyes and look sternly at me. “You should practice expressing your admiration for your boss. Because a peck on the lips says nothing.”

I hate how you are forcing me to give myself over to you, but it only drives me and fills me with the need to prove myself to you. I now lean over to you and kiss you deeply on your mouth, holding myself there. When I look up, the bulge in your pants has stood up higher and I smile to myself. I attack your lips, your lower lip, your top lip. Sucking on them and biting on them - as you make angry little grunts - but making sure to not use my tongue because I can sense that you are still not kissing me back, the withholding bastard that you are. I figure, what the hell. I didn’t come here for me. I came here exactly for this. To give you what you need and to please you in any way possible. I came here to excite you with my shorts, so what am I doing behind your back. 

I get up and walk around to you, pushing your legs further apart as I wedge myself in the gap. I hold your head lightly and bring my crotch nearer your face and wait to see your reaction. You don’t disappoint me and you bend downwards, peeling my barely there strip of fabric to the side and start licking me softly. It’s pure torture like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I don’t know how you do it or why it’s producing such an intense reaction in me but it feels like you’re just using the tip of your tongue to flick my clit, repeatedly. 

“Mhmm Jacob, oh Jacob, what are you doing to me.” I moan to you, forgetting that I have never called you by your name before. “Can you please go faster?” I desperately ask you. 

You proceed to ignore my request and continue what you’re doing, not changing a thing. Just taking small little laps of the puddle that you’ve created on my clit, making sure I don’t start dripping. The agony of not having you seems unbearable and I push myself into your head, getting closer still, I’m practically straddling your face. I’m so aroused I have no cognitive ability and my body starts humping your face of its own accord. You finally start treating me nice and grab me closer towards you, lifting one of my legs above your shoulder and holding me firmly in place with your other hand on my ass. I hold onto the back of the chair with one hand for support. My hips start shaking as multiple waves of pleasure ride through me and I climax. You keep doing this even though I am screaming, “I’m coming, oh I’m coming so hard”. My shaking becomes more vigorous, almost like a full body vibration, as I finally feel the full length of your tongue on my pussy. You draw long, luxurious strokes across the length of my pussy to my clit over and over again. All of this continues longer than I could have hoped for.

On top of all this, there is the added sense of satisfaction and joy from knowing you enjoyed yourself thoroughly. Not only was that the best treatment my pussy has received, it also felt like I was the best meal you’ve had in a long time, one that you’d been waiting for and wanted to savor.