I plumped up my tongue like a little dick and probed Nia's drooling fuckhole. I hooked an arm around one thigh and started rubbing her prominent clit with my thumb; the other one reached up to squeeze a big melon and swipe that thumb hard across its thick, quivering tip. I pressed my lips to hers and sucked out her girl-honey as I tongue-fucked her. Then, keeping my tongue as deep as I could in her honeypot, I rolled it up and then started flexing it. I could feel her body tense and trembling under my ministrations, and a stream of yowls, moans, and small shrieks was music to my ears. Mixed in with her noises were multiple "fuck"s, some short, some long and drawn-out. She grabbed my head with both hands and held on tight, waving her feet in the air.

Nia seemed to tremble on the edge of orgasm for a long time without falling over. I traded places in her sex, sucking her pearl hard into my mouth like I was trying to suck it right out of her oyster. I drove two fingers hard into her hotbox and found her G-spot. Her ridges were prominent, and her voice went up in pitch when I started rubbing them. She seemed to be going higher and higher without hitting climax; I pulled my head up a little, tugging on her clit, and began humming the bass riff to "Peter Gunn," and that broke her. She came with a scream, writhing and bucking her hips, her cunt clenching my fingers in a pulsating grip.

When the storm passed, I pulled my hand out of Nia's pussy and grabbed her other fat, squeezable breast. I watched my hands knead her springy titflesh as I shuffled forward on my knees. I thumbed both nipples at once, enjoying her gasping mewl at my touch. "Your tits are gorgeous, sexy girl," I told her. "I love how sensitive they are. What are they, 34Es?".

"Oooh, you're good," Nia moaned. "Guys always all about the measurements, but you're good. 32F . . . right tit size, just a smaller band . . ."

"Mmmm," I responded. "And I bet they taste wonderful, too. I'll find out in a minute. Your wet little pussy certainly tastes good."

"Thank you," Nia said breathlessly, gasping a little when my knob touched her well-sensitized opening. "You're the first to find out."

"No guy has ever gone down on you?" I asked as I lined myself up.

"No," she panted. "And I'm not interested in girls doing it . . . fuck that was incredible—already the best fuck of my life . . . I want more of that hot fucking mouth on my pussy . . ."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," I replied. "But first, I need to find out one more thing."

"What's that, Mr. Andrews?" Nia gasped.

"How you take a cock." With that, I slammed my prick home in her tight, hot, wet sheath. I fell forward, resting my torso on my elbows so I could keep hold of her breasts, and proceeded to do my level best to break the bed. I squeezed her fat boobs hard and pinched their burnt-sugar tips while my prick thundered in her tunnel.

"Fuck yeah," Nia panted. "Gimme that dick—gimme that big daddy dick—I so fucking need this—need this so fucking bad—need it hard from a big man cock . . . so fucking good, Mr. Andrews—fucking pound your little babysitter—fucking fuck that tight wet little cunt . . ." She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me in with every thrust. "So—fucking—good . . ."

Nia mewled and whimpered and moaned and gasped as I jackhammered her into the mattress, and the bed groaned and complained almost as loudly. She urged me to keep fucking her and keep mauling her tits, but though she was vocally enjoying herself, she showed no signs of cumming. I dropped a hand down to her quim and bent my head, rubbing her clit with three fingers and sucking her nipple between my teeth; she got even louder. I diddled her button and feasted on her ample tit, kissing and licking all over and suckling its thick, turgid point. "Fuck that's so fucking good," she cried out. "So good fucking a real man—no boy has ever fucked me like this . . ."

I'd been fucking her in this position longer than I had expected, and I was starting to feel a little strain. "Are you getting close, sexy girl?" I asked roughly.

"No, Mr. Andrews," Nia breathed. "I take a long time to cum . . . I'm sure that big beautiful daddy cock is up to the challenge."

"Then it's time for you to do some more of the work," I told her, pulling out and rolling us over. "Ride that cock."

"Ooooooh, gladly, Mr. Andrews," Nia squealed. She sat up and aligned herself with my rod, teasing both of us by taking just the knob inside herself. "So fucking good—I love this dick," she moaned. "My boyfriends have all bragged about how much better black cock is, but fuck, that is damn fine dick." She put her hands behind her head and arched her back, thrusting out her tits, then started—well, dancing on my pole is the best way I can put it. She twisted her hips and swung them in small circles, first clockwise, then counterclockwise. She rolled them and moved in vertical circles as well, taking me a little deeper and then pulling back out until my knob was barely inside her.

While Nia was playing with my dick, I claimed a tit with each hand to do a little playing myself. I fanned my fingers out and caressed them, rubbing their stiff points all over my palms. I lifted their soft weight on the heels of my hands, then spilled them out of my grasp and watched them bounce. I traced her curves with light brushes of my fingertips, then sank my fingers into her pliant titflesh and kneaded her heavy boobs. "Fuck I love having my tits played with," she panted. "I need—I need—" She raised up a little, then slammed herself down, impaling herself fully on my big spike. "It's even better with my tight babysitter cunt stuffed to bursting with your big fat daddy dick . . . and your dick is even better with your hands on my titties . . ."

I pinched Nia's turgid nipples; she mewled and ground her clit against me. When I pulled and twisted them, she squealed, then started furiously rocking and sliding her hips. "Fuck that's good," she moaned. "Pinch my nipples, Mr. Andrews—pinch them, twist them, pull them, while I ride this big fucking mommymaker—it all feels fucking wonderful . . ."

I wanted more, so after a few moments I took a full-handed grip on each boob and pulled Nia down. She yowled in surprise, then moaned loudly when I stuffed a nipple in my face. She started bouncing her hips hard and fast while I licked and suckled and nibbled, moving back and forth from one tit to the other. I was hanging on to myself as hard as I could because I didn't want to cum until I'd made her cum on my cock; and then I heard her gasp, "Fuck—I'm—close—already . . ."

I started thrusting, driving my rod upwards to meet her ass each time she slammed it down. I growled, "Cum for me, little vixen. Cum on my cock like a good little babysitter slut. Cum hard on my big daddy cock—let me feel you cum."

"Fuck," Nia gasped again, "fuck—already—I'm—I'm—I'm—fuck—CUMMING!" She drove herself down on my prick as hard as she could and ground herself against me; I filled my mouth with titflesh and wrapped my arms tight around her. She buried her face in my shoulder in an effort to stifle her shriek, or at least avoid shrieking in my ear, as her cunt went crazy, clenching and unclenching. My balls boiled over and I came with a loud, guttural noise; Nia pressed her open mouth forcefully into my shoulder as my cum flooded her cunt.


When Nia eventually rolled off me, she sprawled across the mattress with her eyes half-closed. "I'm tired," she murmured. "A really good dicking after dinner always puts me to sleep. Can I sleep here tonight?"

I sat up and blinked at her in surprise. "It's not a problem for me, but won't it be a problem for you?"

"No," Nia responded with a yawn. "I'm free all morning . . . and I was hoping for this, so . . . I brought an overnight bag . . . it's there in the corner . . . I'm good, Mr. Andrews . . ."

"You're very good," I said softly, grinning; I could see a smirk twitching at one corner of her mouth. "Do you want your panties?"

"I'd better," she murmured. "Help?"

I picked Nia's panties off the floor and helped her get them on, then pulled the covers over her. I gave her a long, langorous kiss and turned out the light. "Sleep well, minx," I said.


I was woken up before my alarm the next morning by roughly 80 pounds of little girl landing on top of me. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," Joy said excitedly, "guess what?"

"Miss Nia slept over!" Hope chimed in.

"You didn't let him guess!" Joy complained.

"Miss Nia slept over!" Hope repeated. "She's making pancakes! I love pancakes! You should make us pancakes for breakfast, Daddy!"

"Well, dear heart," I replied groggily, "why should I do that if she already is?"

"Silly Daddy, not today," Hope answered matter-of-factly. "Tomorrow!"

"We'll take it under advisement," I muttered.

"What's 'take it under ad-vise-mint' mean?" Joy asked.

"Never mind."

"I think it means Daddy needs to get up and eat his pancakes while they're still hot," Hope said.

"Oh, is Miss Nia making them for me, too?" I asked, pleased.

"Uh-huh," Hope told me. "She said she's making you lots because you're gonna need your strength today. Why's that, Daddy?"

My prick lurched suddenly to life at that pronouncement. I think I know what she means, but I'm not telling my girls that. "I'll have to ask her to know for sure," I temporized. "Here, girls, head back downstairs so I can get up and get dressed."


As I was heading out the door to drop the girls off, Nia whispered in my ear, "Hurry back, mister. I want to do something nice for you before I have to go." My cock lurched in my pants; I mumbled something incoherent and tried not to notice her smug expression

Besides their effect on my prick, Nia's words seemed to have made my right foot about ten pounds heavier—judging by the behavior of the gas pedal, anyway. Both Hope and Joy were dropped off somewhat earlier than a strict adherence to speed limits would have permitted, and I was probably lucky no cops crossed my path on the way home.

I walked back into my house and called out for Nia. It sounded like her response came from upstairs, which is where I thought she probably was. As I expected, I found her in the guest suite. As I did not expect, she was naked with her ass in the air, her knees resting on the edge of the bed, and one hand between her legs spreading her sex for me. "Hey, stud," she purred over her shoulder. "Thanks for last night; that was the best fuck I've had in ages. I have a few minutes; think that gorgeous beast is up for a quickie?"

As I stripped off my clothes and flung them aside, I asked, "Will you cum from a quickie?"

"Probably not," Nia conceded, her voice husky, "but who cares? I could thank you with a blowjob, but I wouldn't cum from that either, and having your cock pound my greedy little hole is more fun. Whether I cum or not, I'll enjoy you fucking me, and I'll enjoy feeling you fill me up with your hot seed. Now, stud, you've unwrapped that beautiful man-muscle for me—give it to me. Give it to me hard."

I stepped up between Nia's calves, grabbed her hips, and buried my dick in her hot, wet sex with one powerful thrust. "Fuck I love your cock," she moaned. "Beat me with it, stud. Pound my hot-pink hole. Fucking hammer that tight, wet little black pussy. You ever had black pussy before, Mr. Andrews?"

Am I going to get myself in trouble here? I wondered. Aloud I said, "Yeah, my first girlfriend, Thayla. We started dating our freshman year. Her family moved away unexpectedly our junior year—no one knew why or where. I never heard from her again. We'd been inseparable for almost two years by that point. It took me a long time to recover."

"Fuck . . ." Nia breathed. "Did you make her scream when you fucked her? Did she have big titties like mine that swung when you took her from behind?"

OK, what the heck? I picked up speed and said roughly, "No, she was tall and willowy, and she wasn't a talker, but she had the sexiest moans . . . Why am I telling you this?" I reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Nia's hair near the scalp.

"What are you doing, Mr. Andrews?" Nia asked, sounding uncertain.

"If you can ask questions about my girlfriends, little girl, I think you need something to hold your attention," I growled. I pulled her head up and back and slammed my hips forward as hard as I possibly could. As her back curved, the depths of Nia's cunt opened up to me, swallowing my cock to the very root.

"Fuck!" she squealed. She let out a long groan, then gasped, "That's so fucking deep! I've never—fuck I've never—so fucking good . . ." Almost sobbing, she continued, "You're fucking me someplace no cock has ever been—part of my pussy was still virgin—no more, you took it—fucking wonderful . . ."

I reached around Nia's thigh to rub her clit and she squealed again. I pulled harder on her hair, tightening the curve of her back, and sped up until I was barely keeping my balance. The crack of our hips slamming together at the bottom of each thrust sounded like a gunshot in the room; her ass was rippling constantly as I jackhammered her from behind. "Fuck me, Mr. Andrews, fuck your little babysitter," she moaned. "I feel like a dirty fucking cockwhore—so dominated—you're fucking me like your little cumslut—using me as your little fucktoy—I'm at your fucking mercy—at the mercy of your big fucking daddy cock—so fucking good, I fucking love it . . ."

"Are you my fucktoy, Miss Bexley?" I growled.

"Yes, Mr. Andrews," she gasped, "yes, yes, yes . . ."

"Do you want me to reward you by filling your slutty cunt with my cum?"

"Yes!" she panted, sounding almost frantic.

"Then cum for me," I commanded. "Cum hard on my cock and you'll get your reward."

"Mr. Andrews, I don't—I don't—I—I—what—I—I—cumming!" Nia let out a tearing shriek as a powerful orgasm cracked through her like lightning. I buried my dick to the balls in her one final time with a guttural noise as my balls erupted in an answering climax. Her cunt pulsed and roiled around my dick, milking it hard as I flooded her tight, wet heat with cum.


After Nia left—a little groggily; apparently orgasms could make her sleepy even before lunch—I sat down at my desk. I tried to think about the book, but my mind kept wandering back to Nia and the other girls I'd fucked. It suddenly occurred to me that I might have put Kylie and Carolina at a bit of a disadvantage. Autumn, Melody and Nia have all had chances to bond with the girls, but they haven't. I should fix that so it's an even playing field. So to speak . . .

I'm always turning down invitations for one reason or another. Easy enough to accept a few more. In fact— I had checked my e-mail over breakfast; it was a bad habit I had mostly broken, but that morning it had seemed wiser than sitting there ogling Nia. While I had it open, an e-mail had come through from a cop I'd gotten to know while writing my mysteries; we'd gotten to be pretty good friends. He was a homicide detective named Ray Curtis—and just so we're clear, he looked nothing like Benjamin Bratt; in fact, he could have been a distant cousin to Jesse L. Martin. (He did get some teasing about his name and looks from his colleagues; one of them insisted on calling him Ed.)

Anyway, Ray was booked for a fundraising dinner that evening, and his wife had woken up sick. He wanted to know if I wanted to join him, since he'd already paid for two plates. Normally I would have said no as a matter of course, but—

Let me see if I can get a babysitter on such short notice, I wrote him. If I can, I'll let you know. Then I picked up the phone and called Kylie. Unsurprisingly, I got her voicemail, so I hung up and sent her a text: Kylie, this is R. J. Andrews. I know it's short notice, but if you're free, I'd like to hire you to babysit for a couple hours this evening. Let me know if that works for you.

I was surprised, however, when my phone buzzed just three minutes later with a reply: Yes!

Some while later, I got another one: Out of class now. When?
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Pub: Jan 17 2021 07:52 UTC
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