His Horny MILF Babysitter

Michael has known Lisa since he was a kid. But when the sexy MILF divorces her husband and moves back home, he has one last chance to make his teenage dreams come true. Michael's all grown up, and it's time to prove it to “His Horny MILF Babysitter!”

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

“Is she asleep?”

Michael shook her shoulder. The only response was a faint whine of complaint. “Out like a light,” he smiled. He carefully picked up his little sister and carried her into her room. He put her to bed, taking off her shoes and pulling the covers over her small body.

When he turned, he found Lisa eying him fondly. “You’re a good brother, Michael.”

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly. He closed the door to Vicky’s bedroom and followed the older woman back down the hall. His eyes couldn’t help but admire the sexy sway of her slim hips, encased in the designer jeans she favored. Above, she wore a dove-gray sweater that clung to her torso in a way that made him bite his lips from suppressed desire.

They sat around the kitchen table and talked for a while, the topics ranging between Lisa’s hopes for her life after college and her impending marriage, and Michael’s season with the basketball team.

“It’s almost midnight,” Lisa noted. She took a sip of beer. His parents had decreed, in a case of injustice which was almost cosmic in its scope, that she could have beer (“But only two, okay, Lisa?”) while he could not. Her eyes were suddenly bright. “Too bad neither of us have a date. We could kiss them for the new year.”

His stomach suddenly churned nervously. “I’m here,” he croaked. “You’re here.”

Lisa blinked at him, and her face was illuminated in that sudden, heart-stopping grin that had captured his heart when he was no older than Vicky. “Well, why not?” she smiled. She looked across the room. “Under the mistletoe?”

Unable to believe his luck, he had barely been able to nod. “Sure.”

She got up and he followed, his blood thundering in his ears. They stopped under the doorway where the kitchen led into the family room, a plastic sprig of mistletoe with improbably red berries taped to the lintel, a leftover from Christmas. His father delighted in trapping his mother under there at least twice a day.

“Mmm,” she smiled, her eyes dancing. “I like tall men.” She ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders. “You’ve grown.”

Anything he could possibly say in response would seem either perverted or creepy, so he kept his mouth shut. But something in his heart must have showed in his eyes, because Lisa’s chest began to rise and fall more quickly. Did she see how much he desired her, how long he had kept his feelings hidden?

“Michael,” she whispered, then pulled him down. Her lips brushed his. Once, twice. Then they softened, her mouth opening, a breathy moan escaping her lips as they fastened onto his.

Suddenly they were grappling, his long-denied desire bursting forth. Her hand clutched his rear, pulling him close, her nails pricking his ass-cheeks. He groaned and ground his groin into her, hard as a bar of steel. His hand slipped from her hip to her side, finding the mound of her breast. So firm! So soft!