Author note: This is the third story I’ve written from email exchanges with a young woman from Nth Dakota. The first two were the stand-alone story ‘Nicole Qualley’, and the series ‘Slave to Desire’. I think there’s possibly a second story in this one, but I’ll wait for the response before I decide. Unfortunately, the inspiration for these stories no longer responds to my emails, which is also the typical cycle. Once the arousal leaves the fantasy, the correspondent stops writing. I hope she sees this story and knows I’m grateful for the inspiration because it’s somewhat difficult not to repeat yourself continually.

“Hmm,” Eliza Johnson thought, peering through the fence between herself and the neighbouring property. A new family was moving in as she watched, and Eliza wanted to know who they were. She hoped for at least a late teenage girl of a similar age to her so they could be friends. A late teenage or early twenties guy would be better. ‘Someone to play with,’ Eliza giggled to herself. But her highest hope was for a thirty-five to forty-something father she could seduce.

Eliza loved dad bods and couldn’t get enough of the grateful attitude the owners of those bods had when they discovered she was willing to share her sexy, shapely eighteen-year-old self with them. Eliza knew they weren’t getting any from their harried wives, especially if that wife worked. At least her father wasn’t, or so he regularly complained. She assumed they weren’t either because of how readily other fathers had fallen under her spell.

Unfortunately, all Eliza could see was moving men lifting heavy-looking boxes from the truck into the house and an exasperated woman trying to control an around three-year-old toddler. The woman was ineffectually trying to direct where the men put the boxes and to keep her kid from running excitedly from the truck to the house with every load.

‘Single mum?’ Eliza wondered. She knew the house had been bought and not rented. Therefore, a couple made sense, but she was aware that the woman could be wealthy or have a well-paid job that would allow her to buy the million+ dollar house on her own. Eliza still held hopes for a husband, though.

Stepping back when the child ran too close, Eliza turned and examined herself in her house’s sliding door’s reflection. 157 cm (5ft. 2) tall and less than 46 kg (102 lbs). 32B breasts that looked big on her slender chest. Lustrous light-brown hair and blue eyes. Plus, Eliza’s mouth, nose, and bright white teeth were similar to that of her idol, Margaret Qualley, Andie MacDowell’s daughter. Eliza thought she had a slender, sensuously shapely figure as opposed to the big tits and asses the more popular girls at her high school had.

The boys at school had never interested her, though, so she never cared that the more generously endowed girls got their attention. Eliza was more interested in the male teachers than the male students, and since turning eighteen, she’d indulged in her preferences with some of them. Babysitting for these teachers and then asking the men to drive her home gave her chances to use her feminine wiles on them that she otherwise wouldn’t have had.

Eliza ensured every married teacher, male or female, knew she was available to babysit for a reasonable fee with only enough notice to get to their place by the time required. She always dressed conservatively to relieve any anxiety the wives might have over their husbands being alone in a car with her. However, underneath her knee-length skirt and baggy top, Eliza always wore a matching bra and panty set that left little to the imagination. Suspenders and stockings only added to her hidden allure.

Giving up on waiting to see if there was a man along with the mother and child moving in, Eliza decided to visit her bedroom where her imagination could create what she yearned for. Carefully locking her bedroom door, Eliza slowly took off her tight, clinging T-shirt, imagining a tall, handsome father was doing it for her. She let it drop to the floor before turning and leaning back as if someone held her and bent her back for a kiss. She let her fingers stroke over her bra-covered, tiny but painfully erect nipples, wishing for a lover to do that for her.

Reaching behind her back, Eliza undid her bra and shrugged her shoulders, letting the soft pink bra fall beside her T-shirt. She inched backward, dreaming that her lover was kissing her as he manoeuvred her towards the bed. She let herself fall on her back and allowed her loose midi skirt to spill from her slender, shapely thighs to above her flat belly, exposing matching French-cut panties, already wet at her centre.

Her fantasy played out as she pulled her panty gusset aside and let her fingers slide over her shaved entrance and along her slit. Denying herself the ultimate pleasure of fingering her engorged clit, Eliza dipped her middle finger into her soaking pussy. After seven or eight languorous strokes along her slit and dips into her dripping cunt, Eliza imagined becoming impatient with her eager but unskilled older lover and shoving his finger into her pussy and showing him where her G-spot was.

“Yes!” Eliza hissed as her middle finger stroked her most sensitive inner node. Her other hand found her love button, and the twin sensations drove her towards her peak quickly. Her orgasm came when in her fantasy, the heavy-set man covered her petite body with his and pressed his thick cock against her cunt, demanding entry to her most intimate part.

“Eliza! Dinner!” her mum yelled from the lower floor.

Grimacing because she’d had her heart set on having more than one orgasm. Eliza yelled, “Coming!” before standing and adjusting her panties and skirt back to decency. She sniffed her T-shirt before deciding it would pass muster for the dinner table and putting it back on, not bothering with her bra. She skipped downstairs to join her two younger brothers and parents for dinner.

Dinner was passed in its typical way. Mum and Dad asked the required questions about their children’s day while studiously ignoring each other. Eliza wasn’t sure when the passion went from her parents’ marriage, but she knew things were strained between them. It saddened her and made her wonder if they only stayed together for her and her brothers’ benefit. If that were true, Eliza would rather they separated because she didn’t want either of them to be miserable. They were good parents—loving and supportive most of the time and stern when required.

She still held part of the typical teenage girl infatuation with her father, but it had never been a sexual thing for her. She only imagined he would be happier with her as his wife than the coldness her mother exhibited toward him. Her Dad was a funny, caring man who deserved someone who would laugh at his somewhat childish antics and jokes instead of frowning and roiling their eyes. Life was serious for her mother, although Eliza remembered being younger and her mother joining in with her father’s frivolities. She wondered why her mother had stopped.

Her mother interrupted her thoughts. “Stanley, are you going to fix that leaking tap and clean the fans as I asked you to tonight? Or are you going to sit in your office drinking beer as you usually do?”

Stanley sighed, wondering how the bright, vivacious uni student he’d married had turned into a shrewish middle-aged woman. “It’s a work night, Alice,” he replied heavily. “I will relax where I cannot hear your incessant complaints and enjoy a beer or two before going to bed and getting ready for another busy day tomorrow. I’ll do those things over the weekend.”

Eliza winced, knowing there would be another fight. Her father was a mechanical fitter/fitter and turner for a truck trailer builder in Brisbane’s southwest. It paid well, but Stanley did a lot of overtime, regularly working sixty-hour weeks. Her mum was a teacher, and Eliza thought her mother was becoming more and more disenchanted with the increasingly feminist/leftist/greenie culture that pervaded education in this country. Eliza believed her mother was bitter because she felt powerless to affect any change to the system, and her mother took that frustration out on her husband.

“That’s what you said the last two weekends,” Alice grumbled. “Instead, you played golf and drank beers with your drinking ... oops, I mean golfing ... buddies and ignored what I wanted.” The middle part was said with blatant sarcasm.

“Your bitterness with the education system is not my fault,” Stanley pointed out. “Point your sarcasm and anger at where it belongs.” Her father sighed heavily again before standing, scraping the remainder of his dinner into the bin and placing the plate in the dishwasher. He silently got a beer from the fridge and entered his home office, closing the door behind him.

Alice glared at her three kids, almost daring them to say anything, but her children all stared intently at their plates, pretending they were versions of the three wise monkeys. They saw, heard, and said nothing.

Feeling teary, Alice wondered why she’d become so bitter and angry. Was Stanley right? Was she angry and resentful at her employers and the increasing rubbish they piled on her, expecting it to be taught to her students? ‘I should have become a nurse like mum did,’ she thought. However, her mum wasn’t particularly happy with her job either.

“Look after your brothers and make sure they rinse their dishes and put them in the washer. Then, check if they’ve got homework and ensure they do it if they have. Don’t forget to send them to shower and change for bed before bedtime,” Alice abruptly said to Eliza. “I’m having a shower and going to bed.”

“Yes, Mum,” Eliza dutifully replied, knowing anything less meant she’d receive the abuse her father had saved himself from by vacating the kitchen.

Alice absented herself from the dining room, and Eliza did as her mother had asked. Her brothers cooperated for a change, and the evening settled into its typical rhythm. The highlight of the evening was when Eliza was standing at the front window, ready to pull the shades closed, and a late-model BMW pulled into the driveway next door. An older, mid-forties, handsome man climbed from the car and walked to the front door.

‘Perfect,’ Eliza thought. The three-year-old would need babysitting, so she’d have an excuse to be in the neighbour’s home, and the man would welcome the attention from a nubile, teenage woman. Of that, she was sure!

Time passed, as it was wont to do. Eliza despaired that her parents were spiralling towards divorce but felt unable to influence that result. Her brothers, Blair and Rhett, seemed oblivious to their parents’ marital discord, and Eliza wondered how they could be so blind. But the end of the school year was fast approaching, which meant finals and all the test results that went with it, so she ignored the problem.

Although often accused of laziness, Eliza was in the top 3 per cent of students in her school and within the top 6 per cent nationwide. Her future in any undergraduate degree was assured, but Eliza couldn’t choose between law and medicine. Both had their appeal, but which should she choose? Monetary concerns became the sole arbiter. If Eliza did a medical degree, her student loan would exceed $120,000. To become a lawyer would be much less than that. Eliza chose to do a Bachelor of Laws (LLB) at The University of Queensland, Queensland’s premier university.

Barry Gommersal asked her to The School Formal (Australia’s equivalent to Prom). Eliza knew it was a ‘Rite of Passage’ that was important for some, but it didn’t rate on her radar. She only went because she knew she’d never hear the end of it from her mother if she didn’t. But Barry was not getting lucky that night!

However, the following morning found Eliza in the shower, carefully cleaning Barry’s cum from her tight, young pussy. Barry had invited her home for a nightcap with his parents. Bruce and Carol, his parents, wanted to meet the woman who had pipped their son for school dux (valedictorian). Eliza’s exam results were spectacular, with two perfect scores and three more than ninety-seven per cent. It allowed her to squeak past Barry by one single point and become the school’s top student.

Eliza arrived at Barry’s place trepidatiously. But Bruce opened the door to welcome the youngsters home, and Eliza was transfixed. Barry’s dad stood well over 183 cm (6-ft.) tall. He had shoulders at least an axe handle wide, narrow hips, and long legs covered by boot-cut jeans. Bruce was right in the sweet spot of Eliza’s desires. Mid-forties, slightly balding, with the beginnings of a paunch that strained his work shirt above his belt. A slightly worn, weather-beaten face tanned dark brown from years of working in the elements.

Then, to add to the fantasy, Carol was a tiny, chubby woman who had not aged well. Carol’s inadequately supported tits sagged down her chest almost to her belly button, and her fat ass strained against her sweatpants. Eliza just knew Bruce wasn’t getting any. Or that what he did get was unsatisfactory. Eliza’s libido swiftly imagined taking care of that for Mister Gommersal.

Eliza shared a coffee laced with Bailey’s Irish Cream with Barry and his parents, enduring Carol’s inane chatter as she imagined climbing into Bruce’s lap and riding what she knew to be a fairly hefty package. After all, she could see it lying thickened along Bruce’s trouser leg.

Barry offered to take her home after the shared drinks, and Eliza took the offer eagerly. Barry had barely reversed his car out of the driveway when Eliza jumped on him. Not being a fool, Barry swiftly found a quiet layaway and allowed Eliza to drag him into the backseat. Seconds later, Barry’s trousers were below his ass, and Eliza’s blazingly hot cunt was slowly enveloping his engorged cock.

‘Disappointing,’ Eliza thought as her perineum settled on Barry’s groin. Barry hadn’t inherited the big dick gene from his father. But, it was an adequate close to six inches, and Barry at least had enough self-control not to lose it as soon as he entered her. “Hard and fast, Barry,” Eliza demanded. “I’m on the pill, so fill my cunt as quickly as you can. Then I’ll use my mouth to get you hard again, and you can take care of me.”

Barry groaned as his hips arched from the seat, and he unloaded into the tight pussy pulsing around his throbbing cock. True to her word, Eliza slid off his dick, and performing the contortions that only young women can do, she bent herself in half so she could take him in her mouth. Jacking his shaft as she sucked and slurped Barry’s knob, Eliza enjoyed the taste of their combined secretions, quickly returning Barry’s cock to total rigidity.

Less than two minutes later, Eliza’s now sloppy pussy slid back onto Barry’s turgid pole. Barry had himself under control this time, and he allowed Eliza to guide their lovemaking. She pulled her dress top down, freeing her braless breasts. Next, she took Barry’s hands in hers and showed him where to touch and when to pinch and squeeze. Closing her eyes, Eliza relived her brief fantasy of riding Bruce on his couch as his wife slept unaware above.

“Gawd, Brarry,” Eliza moaned, almost saying Bruce. “Your cock feels so good inside me. I’m going to cum, alright? Cum in me, too.”

Barry relaxed and let his body feel his cock sliding in and out of the young woman above him. He’d desperately taken his mind elsewhere so he wouldn’t cum too soon again. “Pinch my nipples hard,” Eliza demanded. Barry complied, but it rocked him off this world. Groaning loud enough to wake the nearby residents, Barry unloaded into Eliza again. Eliza emitted a high-pitched, stifled scream as she imagined feeling Barry’s father’s enormous cock spitting its baby-making seed against her cervix and climaxed. She collapsed against Barry’s chest, pleased with her orgasm.

Eliza got off Barry and rearranged her panties. “I don’t suppose you have any tissues?” She asked. “I wasn’t expecting to have sex tonight, and I’m unprepared.”

Barry chuckled, unable to believe he’d just fucked his favourite fap fantasy. He reached between the front seats and grabbed the tissue travel pack he kept in the well. “Nor was I,” Barry admitted. “You have a bit of a ‘cold fish’ reputation at school, and most of us thought you were either still a virgin or a lesbian.”

‘About a dozen teachers at school or their husbands could attest I’m neither of those things,’ Eliza thought but didn’t say. Instead, she shrugged and replied, “Better that than to be thought a slut.” She wadded the tissues inside her panties to absorb Barry’s leaking semen. “You need to get me home soon, Barry, or Dad will worry.”

They got out and walked to the car’s front to get back in. Only a few moments later, Barry pulled into Eliza’s driveway and got out to escort her to the door. Eliza allowed him the obligatory kiss at her front door before dismissing him from her mind and going inside.

Barry watched her dismiss him, smiling unconcernedly. Eliza was his favourite masturbation fantasy, but he held no illusions that she considered him even boyfriend, let alone husband material. He grinned again, knowing his cadre would not believe he’d fucked her tonight. He’d tell them tomorrow, but they’d refuse to believe him.

School had finished for the year, and it was early December 2024. Eliza wasn’t due to begin her course until February 2025. Time enough to indulge in her desires and fantasies until knuckling into the discipline required to become a lawyer. Eliza posted her babysitting services on the usual community noticeboards across her various social media platforms. She also had a day job at her local Kmart restocking shelves from 8:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. Monday to Friday. That kept her out of the house for large swathes of the day. A good thing, given her mother was also on school holidays.

Most weekends found Eliza spending at least two of the three weekend nights babysitting youngsters for neighbourhood parents. Unfortunately, she hadn’t met a dad she felt like playing with. They all seemed too wimpy for her tastes, too under their wives’ control, and not manly enough. They were gym junkies and pretty boys. Frankly, she thought they were way too effeminate to be of any actual use to her. Eliza wanted a man’s man. Someone like her father or Bruce Gommersal. A real man who was lean because he worked hard, not because he worked out.

“Hey, Eliza,” Barry’s voice came through messenger.

“Hey, Barry. What do you want?” Eliza bluntly replied.

“My parents’ babysitter just cancelled, and Mum and Dad wanted me to ask if you’d babysit my two younger brothers tonight?”

“I’m not doing anything else, but Mum and Dad are going out for dinner, so I’d need a lift.”

“Hang on,” Barry said. Eliza heard a muffled conversation before Barry replied, “Dad will pick you up at six-thirty. You charge only twenty bux an hour, right? That’s pretty cheap.”

“People can afford a few hours at twenty per hour, Barry,” Eliza replied. “More than that, and they hurry through their meal, and all I get is a couple of hours of pay.”

“Makes sense,” Barry admitted. “I’m going out, too, but I might see you when Dad brings you here.”

“Maybe,” Eliza said noncommittedly.

Barry hung up after the typical inane goodbyes polite people share, and Eliza considered how she should dress for her role that night. It was already 4:00 p.m., but that left plenty of time to get ready. Eliza knew Mrs Gommersal would react badly if she showed any skin, but she wanted to wear something that would emphasise her slender, shapely figure and maybe entice Barry’s dad.

After much consideration, Eliza went for a simple black lace bustier and panty set. At first glance, the bustier appeared to be a basic black bra, so it wouldn’t upset the tubby older woman she’d babysit for. The French-cut seamless black panties clung to Eliza’s vulva and ass crack, revealing her delectably toned, young buns but would show nothing unless her skirt was removed. Next came a pair of sheer silk, black stockings held up by a matching suspender. Again, nothing to outwardly upset an insecure wife.

Over her lingerie, Eliza wore a shin-length, buff-coloured A-line cotton skirt. The skirt clung to the tops of her shapely ass and flat pelvis but flared before becoming overtly sexy. Above the skirt, Eliza put on a simple black Vee-neck T-shirt. Yes, it clung and revealed much of her décolletage, but the bustier’s cups well hid Eliza’s typically prominent pencil eraser-sized nipples so that Carol couldn’t find fault with that, either. White sneakers completed her ensemble. Then, Eliza added a little bit of eyeliner, mascara, understated makeup, and lippy to complete the fresh, innocent girl-next-door look she wanted to create when she greeted Mrs Gommersal.

“Working tonight, honey?” Stanley asked when Eliza joined him at the kitchen table.

“No,” Eliza denied deadpan. “I’ve dressed up to babysit my brothers.”

Stanley laughed as he hugged his scarily intelligent daughter. “I asked for that, I guess. I should have asked who you were babysitting for tonight.”

“The Gommersals,” Eliza answered. “Barry called to say their usual babysitter had flaked on them and asked if I could help out instead.”

“Barry? He’s the one that took you to The Formal, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eliza conceded. “He’s a good guy but not really my type.”

“What is your type, honey?” Stanley asked.

“Why, you, Daddy, of course,” Eliza grinned, batting her eyes and knowing her father would delight in her answer.

“Evening, Eliza,” her mother said, in a good mood for a change. “You’re looking very pretty. Who’s the lucky family getting your babysitting services tonight?”

“Barry Gommersal’s parents,” Stanley teased. “I’m unsure if there even are younger Gommersal children or if this is merely a ploy by Barry to get our daughter over for more illicit purposes.”

Alice laughed at her husband’s joke before adding, “Now, come on, Stanley. You know our daughter only has eyes for you.”

Stanley looked from his wife’s grinning face to his daughter’s teasing one. “Ganged up on, I tells ya!” He mock protested. “The women in this place are ganging up on me!”

“And you love it!” Alice exclaimed, hugging her husband before quietly adding. “Sorry that I’ve been being a bitch. Let’s go out and really let our hair down. Who knows, maybe you’ll even get lucky tonight!”

“Oh?” Stanley said, pretending to be confused. “I’m allowed to try and pick up tonight?”

“With me, you oaf!” Alice chuckled.

“Oh,” Stanley pretended to consider. “I guess that’d be alright, too.”

“You’re blowing it, Dad,” Eliza warned, pleased that her parents were getting along. “Tease too much, and I’ll find you sleeping on the couch when I get home.”

“Boys!” Stanley shouted. “Behave yourselves tonight, or I’ll tan your hides to the wall tomorrow. Your mum and I are out of here.”

Stanley and Alice left, and Barry pulled into the drive as soon as they backed out.

“Blair, Rhett, I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Eliza yelled.

“See ya, Lizzy Lizard Breath,” Rhett, the younger of her brothers at fourteen, called.

“Up yours, Retro Revhead,” Eliza shot back as she opened the door to leave.

Eliza got into Barry’s car. “Hey ya, Baz. How’s they hangin’? I thought your dad was picking me up?”

“You don’t do street cred particularly well, Liz,” Barry chuckled. “Best leave it to the experts. Mum was freaking out, saying she had nothing to wear and they were late for their booking. I said I’d get you before I went out.”

“Whatchu mean I dunnae do street cred well?” Eliza tried in what she imagined was a Scottish brogue.

Shaking his head, Barry said, “Your street is better than your Scottish, but that’s not saying much.”

Typical teenage conversations ensued as they drove the less than five kilometres to Barry’s parents’ house. Most of it would be incomprehensible to anyone not attuned to their language, but Barry and Eliza laughed and joked during the drive. Getting to his home, Barry said, “The front door’s unlocked. Mum and Dad have already gone out, and I’m about to. Good luck with the little horrors.”

Barry’s brothers were preteen boys aged twelve and ten named Bill and Eddy. Eliza hadn’t had much to do with them other than knowing who they were. She wondered why a twelve-year-old needed a babysitter but remembered that the law dictated that a twelve-year-old could be left alone but not in charge of other children. She shrugged at the law’s perfidy but knew it meant she’d get eighty dollars for doing not much more than hanging out with a pair of prepubescent boys.

She found the boys in the family room. As she’d expected, they were playing a fighting game on their PlayStation: Street Fighter 6. Eliza was a gun at Street Fighter 5, so she immediately challenged the boys to a fight. She got her ass handed to her the first couple of times before she figured out the changes in version 6 from the one she was used to, and then she proceeded to kick Bill and Eddy’s combined backsides.

Of course, that meant she had no trouble from the two boisterous youngsters for the entire four hours until Bruce and Carol returned home. The boys happily got themselves and her snacks and drinks as they played, and neither tried to slip away and cause trouble.

When Bruce and Carol arrived home, they were shocked to find their house was clean and tidy, and other than the crash, bang, and wallop sounds from the TV, the place was silent.

“Did you tie them up and gag them?” Bruce jovially asked as he entered the family room.

“Nah,” Eliza drawled, handing the controller to Eddy. “I just whooped their asses at Street Fighter and rubbed their noses in it.”

“That’d get their attention,” Bruce agreed. “A girl better than them at Street Fighter? I’m surprised they’re not on their knees worshipping you.”

“Boys worship me for better reasons than being good at a video game,” Eliza teased before blushing and realising she might have overstepped the bounds of propriety.

“Don’t let Carol hear you talking like that,” Bruce admonished. “Or you won’t get offered the chance to sit again.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Eliza said. “My mum always said my mouth ran faster than my brain.”

“No worries,” Bruce stated, his eyes seeing Eliza in a different light for the first time. He did not doubt that Barry had fucked the young woman when he took her home after The Formal dance. After all, driving the ten-kilometre round trip didn’t take forty-five minutes. But that only drove home how young the woman was. Less than half his forty-five years, he guessed. However, despite her diminutive size, Eliza screamed woman in a voice too loud to deny, and Bruce’s thick cock responded, swelling against his pants leg where it rested. “Better get you home,” he stated, his mind wandering into forbidden areas.

“Sure,” Eliza agreed, noticing the bulge along Bruce’s inner trouser leg. Touching a tongue to her pouting lips, she added, “Let me go tinkle, and we’ll get going.”

Eliza had no need to relieve herself. Instead, she took off her T-shirt, removed her bustier and put it in her travel bag. Then, taking her prominent nipples between her thumbs and fingers, she tweaked and pulled on them until they stood proudly from her B-cup breasts. Ready, she tucked her T-shirt in tightly and strutted to the lounge where Bruce waited.

Bruce’s eyes popped when he saw Eliza’s clearly aroused nipples, but he blushed guiltily, averted his eyes, and looked for his keys. “All ready?” He asked with false bonhomie, his lengthy cock twisting and straightening against his inner thigh. ‘This is going to hurt,’ he knew. The problem with a long cock was unobtrusively extracting it from the trouser leg when it needed to stiffen. Otherwise, it remained confined, straining against the material and causing his balls to ache. He briefly considered pretending to take a toilet break, too, and giving himself a chance to adjust his cock’s position. Internally shrugging, Bruce opened the front door and let Eliza out.

Eliza sashayed to the car. There was no other description for it, Bruce realised. He hoped Carol wasn’t watching from their upstairs bedroom because Bruce would be in trouble despite doing nothing if she were. Eliza’s tight tush swung delectably just in front of him, causing the inevitable ball ache from his hardening pole being trapped inside his trouser leg. Bruce could all too clearly imagine holding those tight, taut buns in his big hands as his tongue probed into the young woman’s gash.

Eliza waited until Bruce opened her door before sitting in the car. Then, when Bruce got in, he found Eliza facing him and smiling. She’d pulled her shoulders back and arched her back, causing her B-cup but much larger-looking breasts to be prominently displayed for his viewing pleasure. Coughing to hide his discomfit, Bruce started the car and backed out of the driveway.

Straightening the car to drive down the street, Bruce felt Eliza’s hand on his outer thigh near his throbbing cock. He looked down wonderingly before looking up at his young passenger’s smiling, beautiful, flushed face. “Is that for me?” Eliza asked coquettishly.

“Do you want it to be?” Bruce asked, disbelieving her question and his response.