Babysitting Daddy 1&2
By Delilah Fawkes
Table of Contents:
Babysitting Daddy
I’d babysat for Mr. Flannigan off and on that whole summer after my freshman year of college, and thought he never noticed me. I’d never really seen him ‘that way,’ either, though. He was always just little Jessie’s daddy. But, that all changed the night he came home early.
I’d tucked the little miss into bed after a rousing game of Candyland where she’d claimed she had to win because she was three. Apparently, those are the unwritten rules, so I went with it, moving her piece all the way to the candy castle and clapping wildly as she giggled. After a goodnight story and a kiss on her cool forehead, she was out for the count. I made myself comfortable in the living room with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and the remote.
I was happily channel surfing a few hours later, when I heard the key in the lock. Mr. Flannigan wasn’t supposed to be home until the morning. When he entered the house, I don’t know how to describe his face except to say he looked like shit. Not like his usual handsome, smiling self at all. His eyes were red and scratchy, and he chucked his briefcase and jacket on the floor by the door, then collapsed into a chair.
“You can go home if you’d like, Becky. I’ll still pay you for the whole night.”
He put his face in his hands, and I could practically feel the exhaustion radiating from his body.
“Are you okay, Mr. Flannigan?” I walked over and put a slender hand on his shoulder.
“Mark.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Call me Mark, Becky.” He sat back with a sigh, and patted my hand.
A spark shot through me at the touch, and I hung on a little too long before pulling my hand back. I could feel strong muscles through his sweater, and wondered if he worked out. I perched on the arm of his recliner, brushing my blonde hair behind my shoulder.
“Are you okay, Mark? What happened?”
He stared up at me, and I noticed his eyes roaming over my low-cut tee before meeting my gaze.
“Right in the middle of my presentation, I got a call. From Melanie. She said it was an emergency.”
“Oh God. Did anything happen?” I knew Melanie was his ex-wife and that she’d hurt him, but not much more than that.
“Not exactly. As soon as I left the boardroom, she told me she called because she’s getting married again this weekend, and wants me to fly down. That’s just like her.”
His fist came down on the chair’s other arm, and I flinched.
“By the time I got back into the room, my nerves were shot, and I started dropping my papers… Hell, I made a fool of myself. Just because she thought she could interrupt the most important meeting of my career to tell me about her new husband-to-be. Fuck.”
I put my hand on his shoulder again, rubbing it gently, hoping to bring him some small comfort.
“I’m so, so sorry.” What else could I say? Wow, your ex sounds like a real bitch? Then, before I could stop them, the words “Do you still love her?” tumbled from my lips.
The anger seemed to melt from his face as he stared up at me with those piercing blue eyes of his. I tucked a piece of his dark hair behind his ear, and he leaned into the touch.
“No,” he whispered. “But, I hate that she can still rattle me.”
Looking at Mr. Flannigan like this, no, Mark, like this, made me really see him for the first time. He was so hurt, so tired, but so masculine. So strong.
Once I stopped thinking of him as “Jessie’s daddy” and really looked at him, I realized that he was gut-wrenchingly handsome. Strong body, tall, with those eyes that cut right through me. Butterflies twirled in my stomach as I looked him over.
“Is there… anything I can do to make you feel better?”
His eyes drifted to my pouty lips, then down my body again, to the place where my short skirt ended and my tan thighs peeked out. Was he checking me out?
“I mean, maybe I could give you a backrub? Or something?”
My mouth was dry. I hoped I didn’t sound like a desperate teenager asking that. I just wanted to take the hurt away, and, okay, touch that hard body of his again.
Maybe I wanted more than that.
“Becky, I-“
“Please, Mark,” I said, moving behind him. “Let me help take your stress away.”
I began rubbing his shoulders gently, then harder as I felt him relax beneath my hands. His muscles were taut, but I could tell he was built well beneath his clothes. I wondered what he looked like naked, and felt my cheeks heating at the thought. I ran my hands gingerly over his neck, kneading the tension out, and he let out a soft moan.
The sound made a little jolt go through my core, and I knew my pussy was creaming onto my panties. He was so close that I could smell the leather musk of his aftershave and something else that was just him. I leaned closer, and ran my hands up through that gorgeous hair of his, scraping my nails over his scalp.
He leaned back, and groaned again, his eyes closed, relishing my attention.
His lips looked perfect—slightly open as he gave himself over to my massage. In that moment, he looked so vulnerable, so sexy… I couldn’t help myself.
I leaned over and kissed him.
From above.
Like in Spiderman.
I am such a dork.
He startled, but didn’t pull away.
That’s when something amazing happened: he pulled me around the side of the chair and onto his lap. I giggled as I fell, my skirt flipping up and flashing my panties when I landed on him. His strong arms circled me, and he pressed me to him, his mouth meeting mine with hunger.
I returned the kiss, running my tongue along his bottom lip. His tongue touched mine, urging my lips open, then plunging into my mouth. I wiggled on his lap, my pussy heating at the intensity of his kisses. I sucked his tongue lustily, and soon felt his erection pressing into my bottom.
I broke away, breathless, and looked into his eyes. They were darker now, and he looked at me like he wanted to take me then and there. Oh, God, I hoped he did, because he was turning me on like you wouldn’t believe. I ran my hands over his hard pecs, then wrapped my fingers in his hair.
“Mr. Flannigan…What are we doing?”
He nipped at my lip with his teeth, and I shivered. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you, Becky? How long I’ve wanted to grab you and kiss you like this?”
I swallowed hard. Was he seriously saying these words to me, or was I dreaming?
“You have?”
He ran his hands up my back under my tee, and I arched into his touch, his hands sliding over my bare skin.
“Oh, yeah. The way you are with Jessie… the way you tuck that hair behind your ear… your incredible body… Becky, you’re amazing.”
I leaned forward and kissed him softly, tasting his lips again. I was so wet now that I wondered if I was leaving a spot on his pants. Could he feel what he was doing to me?
“Oh, Mr. F…”
“Call me Mark.”
“Mark,” I breathed. “Did you want to do more? Than kiss me, I mean?”
His hands roamed to the bottom of my shirt, then pulled it gently up over my head. I gasped as my nipples puckered beneath my thin bra.
“God, yes,” he growled. “I’ve wanted to fuck you long and hard until you creamed all over my cock.”
I covered my mouth with my hands. I’d never even heard him swear, much less say anything as dirty as that.
“Becky? What do you want?”
His eyes pulled me in, questioning if he’d gone too far. I moved in his lap, straddling him, and rubbed my aching clit over his hard-on.
“Fuck me, Mr. F. I mean, fuck me, Mark. Fuck me hard.”
He groaned at my words and pulled my mouth down to his again, pushing me down on him, rubbing my wet pussy over his hard dick. It hit just the right spot when I ground onto him, and I cried out, tingling pleasure coursing through my cunt. He felt so big even through the layers of clothing, that I couldn’t wait to have him inside me, pumping into me.
I reached down and tugged his sweater up over his head, then ran my hands over his tanned chest. He fumbled with his belt and zipper, and I unhooked my bra, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes widened as he stared at my hard, pink nipples pointing up at him.
“Fuck yes, Becky,” he breathed.
He pressed my tits together, and ran his tongue over them, circling first one nub, then the other. I gasped, arching back to give him better access.
No one had ever sucked my titties before. It felt ah-mazing. I wasn’t a virgin or anything, but my last jock boyfriend was some two pump chump who hadn’t exactly mastered the art of foreplay. Now, with Mark’s hot mouth suckling and biting, I was in heaven, writhing on his lap.
“Wait,” I gasped, pulling out of his grasp. I hopped up, and yanked my wet panties down, then flipped my skirt, flashing him my pink pussy lips. He ran his hands up my thighs and stroked me there, making me giggle then moan, as he probed between them, testing my wetness.