Hilary Duff Babysitting - Sex Stories

Hilary Duff Babysitting

... make it just with stuff she’d already had in her kitchen. “Pair it with a nice beer, and it’d really be something, or so I’m told,” Ben said, making Hilary laugh. “I might have to try that, but I doubt your mom would like it if I sent you home with beer breath,” Hilary said. “Oh, they left for New Zealand this morning,” Ben said casually. “Dad’s got business and mom tagged along for fun.” “That’s right, I remember your mom saying something about it a couple weeks ago when I came over to see if you could sit,” Hilary said between bites. “In fact, I think I’m supposed to check in on you to make sure you’re not throwing wild parties or sacrificing live sheep or whatever crazy thing your mom read about on Facebook this week.” “I guess I’ll have to cancel the raid on the petting zoo and send the sacrificial altar back to Amazon then,” Ben said, dryly. “You’re free to hang out here if you get bored and want to interact with people,” Hilary offered. “Though I’m sure you’re already planning to sneak your girlfriend in a few times.” “Nah, she broke up with me before Christmas,” Ben said, shrugging his shoulders. “Seems she found herself a more exciting guy, or so she thought because a couple weeks later she tried to convince me to take her back. I, of course, told her to go fuck herself.” “Good for you,” Hilary said. “I never liked her. She seemed like one of those girls that would expect you to do everything for her and then would get pissed if you even dared to ask if she’d bring ...

... you a cold drink while you were out working in the yard in hundred degree heat or something.” “Not quite that bad, but close,” Ben said. “Your feet look like they hurt.” “I’ve had worse,” Hilary said, lifting her feet and flexing her toes. “If there’s one good thing that came out of dating Roberta, she was a pretty demanding taskmaster when it came to massaging her feet,” Ben said, nodding his head towards her feet. “If you’re not offering, then too bad,” Hilary said, smirking as she turned in her chair. Dr****g her legs over the arm of the chair and couch, she put her feet in his lap. “I couldn’t tell you the last time my tootsies got massaged.” “Next time I’m mowing your lawn in hundred degree heat, bring me a cold drink and we’ll call it even,” Ben said, pressing his thumbs into the sole of her foot. “Ohhh, deal,” Hilary moaned as she leaned back against the other arm of the chair. For the next ten minutes or so Ben worked on her feet, sending Hilary into a near tranquil state. He somehow managed to not only turn her feet into jelly, but unlocked a lot of the tension in her lower body just from massaging her feet. “You’re hired,” Hilary said, completely relaxed when he finally let go of her left foot. “Though I think I made a grave mistake.” “Which would be?” Ben asked, hoping he hadn’t pushed too far. “I’m now on the verge of falling asl**p and have no energy left to make it upstairs,” Hilary sighed. “I should have gone upstairs first and made you massage my feet up there.” ...