She's more of a talker

"Mr Cox, sir, did you just look up my skirt?" Mikaela straightened up and looked at me with curiosity. I started stammering something, my face feeling hot and sweaty, but the young blonde looked completely cool and she walked back toward me with a playful smile on her lips. "You don't have to be embarrassed if you were. Tell me..." She touches me hand again, and it feels electric.

Has she failed to notice that obscene bulge in the crotch of my sweatpants caused by the massive erection she has provoked? Mikaela hasn't commented on it, or looked directly at it. I really can't manage to say anything to this beautiful little white girl: I want her so badly, need her to leave my house, need to plunder her tight pussy and convert her to black cock worship.

She takes a step back and stares at me for a moment, almost sizing me up, then her hand strays to her shirt. "I can show you more, if you liked that. I can be the most perfect babysitter you've ever heard of." She pulls off the blouse to expose the full breasts restrained within her tight white vest. "I can give you what you desire, oh but you are a married man, Mr Cox!"

"Oh, tell me what you want," she repeats, rubbing her breasts through the vest which apparently had the qualities of a sports bra. "You can black me if you want to, oh but you're a married man!"