Playdate Plans Pt. 02

"Your apartment is smaller than my house!" Mason declared from his car seat as I carefully navigated his mom's 4Runner out of the parking lot. After I straightened the car into the lane of traffic, I glanced at the rearview as I replied to my friend's five-year-old.

"That's true, Mason. I don't need a lot of space for just me; it's not like I have a crazy Mase-Monster running around!" He laughed at the teasing use of his nickname and looked out the window.

Babysitting isn't so hard, I thought to myself as we turned off the main road into the quiet neighborhood. The playdate at Mason's friends' house held diverse benefits for me as a parenting novice. Sharing childcare duties with Mark, the girls' dad, a more seasoned parent, was obviously a huge plus. But, after making Mark's, um, 'acquaintance' at the pool yesterday, the afternoon promised an array of more colorful perks. As I turned onto their street, a warm jolt kicked through my loins at the thought of what awaited me at our destination.

Luckily, Mason was sufficiently preoccupied by his playdate with Theresa and Michelle that he hadn't asked why we stopped at my apartment on the way to his friends' house. I didn't want to invent an excuse for a five-year-old why the clothes in my babysitting overnight weren't suitable for spending the afternoon with his friends' dad. He had contentedly watched cartoons for twenty minutes while I shut myself in the bedroom to assemble an outfit.

When I'd emerged, he had observed "Oh! Those are tall shoes!" Rather than interrogate me as to why I had changed into towering patent black high heels -- as well as a fitted, grey square-neck tee, and a short red and blue plaid skirt over black stockings -- Mason instead insisted that he also wanted to make his appearance more formal. Thinking fast, I'd outfitted him with a red bowtie off an old stuffed bear, which Mason proudly straightened as we pulled into the driveway of his friends' house.

As I unbuckled the latch on Mason's car seat, I heard the front door of the house open. With an eruption of laughter, the twin girls rushed down the walk to meet us. In chorus, they greeted me "Hiiii Aunt Sarah!" then snatched Mason away from me by his outstretched arms. The girls were decked out in princess dresses, so it seemed fortuitous that Mason was wearing his tie.

Mark ambled casually down the walk, wearing standard weekend dad-fare: polo shirt, khaki shorts, and boat shoes. He dodged the rushing knot of children as they brushed past him on their way to the backyard, then stopped in his tracks before me. His eyes bulged as he gawped at my outfit, letting out a low whistle. I fretted if my outfit was "too much"; if my skirt was too short, or if my gauzy, clingy top betrayed too much of the black lace bra underneath.

"What will my neighbors think I'm up to, seeing me bring a fine-ass white girl dressed like this into my house?" He asked in mock concern, his massive smile dominating the bottom half of his face. My bright crimson lips bent into my own sultry smile.

"What your neighbors don't know..." I replied mischievously. Another moistening lurch bolted inside me as he took my hand and led me up the walk into the house.

Mark ushered me inside and shut the front door. I scanned the adjacent rooms for peeping children's eyes, then lifted the pleated back of my skirt, exposing the lacy elastic tops of my stockings and the frilly lace of my black thong splitting my buttocks. With my sexy secrets revealed, I reached up and pulled Mark's mouth to mine. Our mouths embraced as we stood in the foyer, dancing and tugging at each other's lips in thrilling anticipation. My carefully shaved slit dripped with excited moisture, longing for the inevitable but distant.

He broke away after a long moment, clearing his throat and eagerly pulling me by my arm into the kitchen at the back of the house. Beyond the back windows, the three kids ran in circles around a plastic castle in the yard. Glass French doors hung ajar and led out to a large wooden deck. On the marble kitchen counter, two wide-rimmed margarita glasses were arranged beside a blender full of green mixture, as promised.

"How do you take your margs?" Mark asked as he lifted the pitcher off the blender.

"Full of alcohol!" I replied, beaming. He laughed at my lame joke; the man was willing to make some sacrifices to get laid.

Mark poured two drinks then led me out the doors to a patio table and chairs. He graciously pulled out a seat for me, then took his seat opposite, facing the yard and the playing kids.

We watched their game (seemingly a peaceful oligarchic state whose primary agricultural good was dinosaurs) for a while, chatting pleasantly, not unlike a normal date. College, work, sports, we conversed smoothly through each other's lives. As the children's game reached its first crisis (dinosaurs had escaped!), Mark rose from his chair and tipped the last of his drink into his mouth.

"Well, I don't know about you, but all this parenting has made me thirsty! How about another round?" He grinned as he extended a hand to help me up from my seat. Waving to the three dino-lords in the yard, he ushered me back through the doors and into the empty house.

Mark unscrewed the cap of the Jose and poured an alarming amount of tequila into the blender as he gestured to a row of stools on the opposite side of the counter. He filled the pitcher the rest of the way with green margarita mix then started pulsing the concoction together.

"Can you get more ice?" He shouted over the whirring blades. I stared at him a moment and he repeated, louder, "Ice!?" and nodded his head at the refrigerator. I nodded, grabbing the bowl from the counter and walking around the end of the marble island to the middle of the kitchen.

I reached the fridge and pulled out the bottom freezer drawer, then bent over to grab fistfuls of ice into the bowl. Behind me, the droning of the blender stopped. In an instant, I felt the pleated hem of my skirt rise, exposing the pale globes of my bum, split by the black lace ribbon of my thong.

"What kind of babysitter wears this to a playdate?" Mark commented as his hand brushed leisurely over my snowy buttocks.

"A very bad one." I purred in response, bracing my grip on the edge of the drawer as the anticipated spank landed on my bare butt cheek.

"Very bad indeed." He agreed. Mark's fingers slipped down the curve of my ass into the cleft between my cheeks. He followed the black scalloped path of my thong through my crack, over my taint, to the swamped black lace covering my mound. His fingertips pressed against my eager gash through the soaking mesh of my panties, teasing my snatch with the added friction of the lace.

He steadied me with his other hand on my tailbone, then finessed his fingers around the back of my thong and dipped them between my drenched lips. I groaned, propped over the open freezer drawer as Mark's fingers pumped into my hungry cunt. My eyelids flickered in delight as my handsome host fingerfucked me in his suburban kitchen; my elbows threatened to buckle as the thrill washed through my body.

"You're so wet already!" Mark exclaimed. "I wonder what a bad babysitter's thinking about that's got her so excited..."

I straightened from my stooped lean, wincing reluctantly as his fingers were forced from my slit. "Mmm, let me show you..." I buzzed, handing him the bowl of ice as I shut the freezer. I flattened my hands against his chest, shoving him across the kitchen towards the corner of the counter. Locking my arms around his neck as we crossed the wooden floor, my lips impatiently covered his mouth as I pushed him backwards with my bust and hips.

His butt stopped in the corner of the marble. Carefully placing the bowl on the counter beside the half-finished blender, Mark's freed hands rallied to action. One pawed at my back, caressing my spine and frenziedly grappling at the clasp of my bra through my shirt. With a flinch, the hook and eye separated, relaxing the band and setting the lace cups drifting between my shirt and tits. The other dove beneath the flare of my skirt, finding the elastic top of my stocking, then tracking up the line of my hamstring until he reached the pliable flesh of my ass. My own hand skimmed below the waist of his khakis, squeezing the urgent bulge that extended down the inside of his thigh.

Grinning, I pulled away from our kiss and broke free of his arms' hold. I forced both of his hands to the counter; Mark gripped the stone edge in loath compliance. My palms and fingertips caressed the lump in his shorts as I slowly sank, bending my knees as I lowered. I squatted, balanced upon my shiny black stilettos, as my face reached level with his belt. My fingers unfastened his buckle and fly, and I reached into his shorts. I grinned in delight as I pulled out his imposing erection; as mouthwatering now as when I had first seen it in the locker room the day before. His pants, weighted by his wallet and belt, plummeted to the hardwood with a noisy thud.

Slowing stroking his thick shaft in my hand, I gazed up at Mark from my squat. "Like all bad babysitters, I love sucking black cock." I flicked the tip of my tongue beneath the rim of his head to emphasize my point. "And like I promised, today I'll be more thorough."

Leaning forward, I opened my jaws and took Mark's dick into my mouth. My red lips closed behind his glans, then patiently crawled down his length towards the base. As my mouth consumed his shaft, the black pipe thumped across my tongue and into my throat. With a soft, slobbery cough, his tip struck the back of my throat as my lips reached the foot of his cock.

I held there, gulping around his prick, clogging my maw. My palms braced against his tensed, muscular thighs. As I held, my mouth flooded with drool that soaked his pole and spilled from the corners of my lips. After a long, gagging moment, I yielded and reversed, pulling my lips back to Mark's tip and sucking in reviving breaths around the thick shaft. I brought one of my hands to his dick, ringing and stroking the dark rod in my pale fingers.

My knees butterflied apart, and I felt a draft creep up my short skirt, between my gapping legs. The cool air of the room contrasted with the tropical dampness of my pussy. I moaned loudly, playfully stroking and sucking Mark's dick as he leaned against the counter. I faltered on my heels, and, without taking my mouth from Mark's pipe, I shifted to my knees on the wood floor before him.

Kneeling and steady, I bobbed my head in his crotch. My lips sped gaily between his tip and base, tracking my clutching fingers as they beat along the stiff black shaft. Mark reached down to brush a stray curl of red hair from my face, then started to return his grip to the counter. I grabbed his wrist with my free hand, pulling his palm to the back of my skull. Accepting my invitation, Mark's hands worked together to gather my hair into a loose ponytail and hold my hair at the back of my head in his palms. He didn't influence my pace yet, only matched my tempo and depth.

Encouraged by his hands on my head, I closed my eyes and increased the speed of my plunging mouth. My red lips buzzed attentively around the thick black cock. Warm drool coated the shaft in the wake of my lips, and streamers of slobber oozed across my chin. I wiped the stray spittle from my jaw, then cupped Mark's heavy balls in my wet palm. Delicately caressing and tugging his teeming sack, I encouraged my host towards release.

A grunt above me announced that Mark was done being passive. His hands tightened at the back of my head, pulling my mouth down his pipe. I gurgled and choked as his fist-like glans packed into the back of my throat. His shaft weighed on my tongue. I opened my watery blue eyes, gazing up at Mark from my knees as he filled my mouth and throat with his cock. He smiled triumphantly down at me, rotating his hips and feeding his dick into my mouth as his hands pulled my lips down his shaft.

Mark's demeanor of composed triumph broke abruptly. "Ohshit!" He crushed his words together as his cock burst at the back of my mouth. Gooey ropes of salty gel sprayed against my palate. I swallowed frantically as Mark spurted again, firing rockets of cum over my tongue and into the roof of my mouth. His third volley overflowed my lips, spilling out in slimy cords down my chin as I gulped down my brimming mouthful. He pulled his dick from my mouth, smacking it against my sloppy lips as I enthusiastically ran my tongue along his still-rigid length.

The pounding of six small feet on the porch outside gave Mark an iota of warning to yank his shorts from his ankles to his waist and fasten his belt and fly before the kids raced through the French doors. My chin still glistened with jizz and slobber, and I remained behind the counter, dabbing at my face with a dishtowel and praying Mark could keep the kids on the far side of the marble island.

"We want a snack!" The three kids sang in unison.

Mark glanced down to gauge my progress, then replied as he leaned over the counter towards the children. "Yes, I guess now that the grownups have had their snack, so it's time for the kids." He shot me a mischievous look and I quietly slapped the back of his leg while wiping the last of his cum from my jaw.

"Where's Aunt Sarah?" Mason inquired.

"Aunt Sarah made a little bit of a mess with her snack and is cleaning up the spill." Mark joked. I raised one hand above the line of the counter, cheerily waving. My chin felt clean beneath my fingers, so I scampered back to my feet and stood. "See? There she is!" he announced. I smiled innocently at the playmates, though I could feel the cups of my unhooked bra laying cockeyed beneath my shirt.

The kids launched into a boisterous, meandering description of their game. I glanced below the edge of the counter to see Mark's erection still straining against the fabric of his shorts. Blushing, I hid my grinning mouth behind a sip of margarita as he met my gaze and nodded.

He clapped his hands in a call for attention, then addressed the focused children. "All right. Give us ten minutes, and Aunt Sarah and I will get your snack together. After that, it's naptime!" The three groaned in futile complaint but hurried back to the yard to finish the chapter of their game.

As the door shut, I turned to Mark. "I cannot believe that." I said, gesturing at the throbbing bulge in his shorts.

"Are you complaining?" He replied with a wicked grin. I adamantly shook my head 'no'. "Mmm, yeah, didn't think you would. For now, do you mind grabbing granola bars and raisins from the pantry?" He pointed to a partly open door on the side of the kitchen. I nodded, listening to the tick of my heels on the polished wood and feeling Mark's eyes crawling over my ass and legs as I walked.

I flicked the switch on the outside wall, then stepped through the door. The closet was roughly five by five, with walls on three sides lined floor-to-ceiling with shelves. I scanned the rows for the familiar red raisin box, reaching the far end of the chamber before I found them on the top shelf.

I stretched on my toes to grab the box, feeling my bust warping the contoured cotton shirt as I twisted and strained to reach. My fingers brushed with the edge of the box as I heard the soft click of the door behind me. My fingers fumbled against the cardboard and suddenly large hands closed around my upheaved tits. I squeaked in surprise, almost falling backwards but instead finding myself pressed against the shelves by Mark's insistent torso.

"You're going to get us caught!" I flimsily protested. His hands had already wormed their way under my shirt and found the ripe flesh of my tits. His fingers kneaded my pliable breasts, squeezing and mashing the tender globes beneath his palms. My breathing was chopped, and I dipped on my heels, grinding the bubbles of my ass against the aching protrusion in his shorts.

"Not if we're quick." Mark insisted. One of his hands left my rack, and I heard the whir of a zipper behind me. He grabbed the back of my right leg and boosted my foot off the floor, propping the toe of my heel on a low shelf. His fingers brusquely yanked aside the drenched crotch of my panties, and his cock surged into my dripping snatch.

"Ah! Fuck!" I cried at the abrupt penetration. I leaned forward and grabbed a beam for support. His hand cupped beneath my flexed buttock, his other continued its attack on my breasts. The head of Mark's dick punched rapidly into my quim. The suddenness of the action fueled my overheating libido. "Fuck me! God don't stop! I want your cock inside me all fucking day!"

Mark moved his hand from my ass to my hip. Along with his hold on my waist, his other hand clutched my tit, using it as a handle to drag my pussy down his cock. His breath was hot and wet on the back of my neck. My loose jugs wobbled beneath my shirt with every impact. The boiling wad of cum already in my stomach bounced inside me as Mark's thrusting dick relentlessly speared my needy cunt, pushing my energized sex towards a climax.

"Just like that! Fuck! I'm gonna cum already!" I squealed as I peaked.

Mark's panting breath became suddenly jagged. "Fuck!" He howled. Clenching my waist, he held me in place and drove his pipe to its deepest penetration in me as he came. His cock twitched, painting my spasming womb in hot, white seed. His grip on my waist tightened as he jerked again, splashing more waves of jizz inside me. As his trembling prick shot another cord of spunk into my pussy, he finally released his hold and his dick slithered free of my slit, squirting a final smack of cum onto my inner thigh and the elastic top of my stocking.

I caught my breath, feeling his squirming cream seeping in my gash. "Well, that's one way to hide the evidence..." Mark grinned shamelessly, like an unapologetic child caught stealing a cookie.

I dragged the crotch of my thong back into place, then fidgeted with my unfastened bra to replace the cups over my excited tits. Taking his cum-sticky cock in my hand, I fondly stroked his shaft as I pointed to the shelf with the raisins. Mark smirked, handing me the box and another of granola bars. While my hands were full, he playfully honked my tits through my shirt before tucking his dick back into his pants and leading me back to the kitchen.

The children returned from the yard as we finished setting out their plates. They ate with animated enjoyment, laughing amongst themselves while asking what we, as grownups had been up to. I again hid my flush behind a margarita glass, letting Mark tell a half truth about making friends.

"But you were already friends?" Michelle chimed in.

"Yes, but thanks to your playdate, now we're super special friends!" Mark replied. I almost choked on the margarita, feeling the tequila threaten to backwash into my sinuses as I struggled not to burst out laughing at the figure of speech.

With the kids' snacks finished, Mark volunteered to get the three of them settled in the twins' room for naptime while I cleaned up the kitchen. I looked behind me, expecting Mark to materialize to lift my skirt as I bent over to put the plates in the dishwasher, and felt a naughty rush as I returned to the pantry to put away the boxes. I felt the combined wetness of my enduring arousal and Mark's cum in my pussy seeping into my panties as I walked.

The chorus of children's protests echoed from upstairs as I returned to the empty kitchen. Leaning against the counter I reached up my skirt and found the congealing streak of jism Mark had shot onto my stocking after his cock had fallen from my snatch. I curled a finger through the smudge, then licked my fingertip clean. I moaned at the palpable jolt as heat rocketed through my libido.

As the objections abated in the bedroom above me, I lifted my skirt and slid my hand down the front of my panties. My fingers found my engorged clit, and I moaned aloud in the quiet kitchen. Gently stroking my nub, I imagined the two loads of cum Mark had already fired into me today: one down my throat and the other in my pussy. My body twitched in arousal at the thought of how I'd served his beautiful black cock. Moreover, greedy impatience bubbled in my sex; I wanted Mark's dick here, inside me, now.