NSFW ~ Anikka Albrite & Sara Luvv Photo Shoots from Babysitting the Baumgartners Set (They’re Making My Book into a Porn Movie)

Anikka Albrite and Sara Luvv do such a good job embodying the roles of Mrs. B and Ronnie (respectively) – just watching them together is kind of magical. Below are lots and lots (and lots!) of photos of the two of them from on the set of Babysitting the Baumgartners. Just looking at these makes me all tingly and flushed. I couldn’t have imagined it better than this. To say I’m thrilled with these two and their performance is the understatement of the millenium.

Two more months until you can see the whole movie! I can NOT wait. And yet I have to.

Ahhhhhh! The anticipation is killing me… 😛

I paired up some of the photos with the text from the book below – it’s so fun to see it come to life.

Annnnd again, just one more warning – this is seriously NOT safe for work. (NSFW)

Seriously. Hotness ahead. Total hotness. The XXX-rated kind.

Okay, you’ve been warned…!

All excepts below are from Babysitting the Baumgartners, available on the following:

Kindle | Nook | iBooks | Kobo | Google

Excerpt from Chapter 4…

“Do you want to borrow one of my suits?” She poured cream, the white fluid turning the dark liquid a smooth tan—almost the color of her skin. “I noticed yours was still in the sink. I hung it, but I don’t think it’s dry yet.”

“Oh!” I flushed. “I forgot it. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” She glanced over at Doc and gave him a smile. “Come on upstairs. I’ll get you one of mine. Will you take the kids out when they’re ready, babe?”

Doc leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “Will do.”

I put my half-eaten banana on the table, following Mrs. B upstairs. I felt Doc’s eyes on us as we left the room, Mrs. B in her micro-bikini and me in my boy shorts and t-shirt.

“What color do you want?” She tossed suits out of her drawer. I stared at the selection piling up on the bed. She sat on the edge, sifting through them. “Oh, here’s a good one. It’s adjustable. Don’t want you falling out.” She winked at me, holding it up. It was a light orange color and to me it looked awfully small.

“Let’s try it on.” She tossed it to me. I turned my back, even though I knew she could see me in the mirror, and pulled off my shirt. The cups were large for me, of course—she was probably twice my size in that department—but it tied up top and in back, closing the gap.


“Here.” She watched me struggle with the ties. “Let me.” Her fingers moved lightly down my shoulder blades as she tied the strings in back. I held my long dark hair up and out of her way while she tied the ones around my neck.

“Not bad.” She cocked her head and looked at me in the mirror. “What do you think?”

I turned a little, staring at my reflection. “I like it.”


I smiled as she tied the string tighter around my hip. I finally unloosened mine and did the other side, adjusting the tiny orange triangle between my legs. The back was a thong, just a thin string that ran up between my cheeks. Mrs. B stayed on her knees, studying the orange material, and she began to pull it, first left, then right, frowning.

“Sweetie, I think we’re going to have to do something about this.” She bit her lip and tried again, this time right, then left.

“Look.” She pointed to the mirror and I went to stand in front of it. “You’ve got just a little too much hair down there to wear it out, don’t you think?”

I could see what she’d been doing now, with all her tugging. There was a line of dark, curly hair showing on one side or the other of the small stretch of material, no matter how you positioned it. It also showed a fine line of hair along the top edge, although I could pull it up to cover that.

“I guess I can’t wear it.” I sighed.

“Sure you can.” She came up behind me, her hands on my shoulders. She turned me, pushing me gently. “Come on, we’ll fix it.”


I heard the kids downstairs, and Doc’s voice floating above them. Mrs. B took a towel out of the linen closet and spread it on the long counter which connected the twin sinks. There was a large mirror behind it and I glanced at my reflection. I liked the color on me, the way it made my just-starting-to-tan skin look a little more brown somehow.






“Okay, take those off.” Mrs. B tugged at the string of the bikini bottoms. I opened my mouth to say something, but I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just slid them down over my hips and left them sitting on the rug.

“Hop up.” She patted the towel with a smile.

“Um… “ I watched her put a razor and a can of shaving gel on the counter.

“Come on.” She patted the towel again. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this hundreds of times—and when Doc does it for me, it’s always easier than if I do it myself.”

I stared at her, sliding slowly up onto the fluffy white towel. “Doc…shaves you…down there?”

She turned on the water in the sink to my left, both hot and cold, adjusting it. “He used to—before I started to wax. But we don’t really have time to wax you, not today. We’ll just shave you all neat and smooth, okay?”

I nodded, not knowing what else to say. I heard the sliding door opening and closing downstairs and knew they were going out. We were alone in the house.

“Easiest way to do this is for you to lean back a little and put your feet up on the counter,” she instructed.

“But…” I flushed.

Sitting the way I was, or even changing in front of her, I wasn’t completely exposed. Doing what she asked would spread everything wide open for her eyes and the thought made me dizzy.

“It’s okay.” She put her hands on my thighs, rubbing them gently up and down. Her hands were soft, her red-tipped fingers long and slender. “We’re all girls here, right?”

I nodded, letting her help me as she put my feet up on the edge of the counter, resting on the towel. My back was against the mirror, and it was cold, making me shiver. At least, I thought that’s what was making me tremble.



Mrs. B knelt between my legs, and I saw her eyes roaming over me down there. She smiled up at me and reached for the shaving cream. “You have a lovely pussy, Veronica.”

I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say to that. “Will it hurt?”

“Not at all.” She squirted a glob of gel into her hand and spread it over the hair between my thighs. It developed quickly into a white foamy cream. Her fingers rubbed my mound gently, making me remember how she had rubbed me last night. “It’s just like shaving your legs.”

She ran the razor under the stream of water before moving it toward my lips. I watched, fascinated, as she started at the top, working her way down toward my slit, rinsing the razor between swipes. She concentrated on what she was doing and seemed oblivious to the fact she was touching the most private, secret part of me.

“Open your legs a little more,” she instructed as she started to shave downward, first one side and then the other. Her fingers pushed and prodded at my pussy as she went, sending sweet waves of pleasure through me. Once in a while, her hand or her fingers would nudge my clit, sending a jolt straight up my spine.

The water running down over my skin and onto the towel was warm and I closed my eyes for a moment, hearing the scrape of the razor, the running of the water, and Mrs. B’s steady breathing between my legs.



I felt her breath on my thigh, even over my pussy, as she knelt there and concentrated on the work at hand. When I looked down, I saw all the dark, wiry hair which had been there since I hit puberty was now gone, leaving just a little stubble.

“This part is trickier,” she said. “I’ve got to make it all smooth.” Rinsing the blade again and then starting at the bottom, she took the razor against the grain of the hair, working her way back up my lips and over my mound. My pussy was throbbing now, and my nipples poked out of the orange bikini top, betraying my excitement.

I gasped when she spread me open with her fingers. “Mrs. B!”

“I just have to run the razor along this edge here.” She pulled one of my lips taut and brought the blade up just along the inside. “I hate stray hairs, they drive me crazy. Trust me.”

She did the other side, her wet fingers rubbing over my clit, not intentionally, but it still sent a wave of heat through me. I ached, yearning to be touched or to touch myself. I knew my lips must be swollen—they felt huge, and so did my clit. I wondered if she could tell how wet I was, even with all the water running down between my legs.



“There!” She cocked her head and looked at her handiwork. “Lovely. You have nice big, puffy inner lips, Veronica. And your clit stands right out. It’s very pretty.”

I felt my cheeks burning. “Mrs. B…”

“It’s true.” She smiled, standing and rinsing the razor in the sink. “It’s unusual… you should be proud of it.”

I didn’t know what to say. I put my legs down, closing my thighs. My pussy was wet from the shave, but it was also slick with excitement and when I squeezed my legs together, it made me feel faint. Things felt very different down there—vulnerable and exposed. I reached my hand down tentatively and gasped at how incredibly smooth my skin was now.




“Isn’t that great?” Her eyes were bright. “I love how soft it is. Here, let’s get you rinsed off. The fastest way is in the shower.”

She had me stand at the back of the tub as she unhooked the showerhead and adjusted the water temperature. “Is that too hot?” She touched the spray to my feet.

I shook my head. “No.”

Mrs. B knelt by the side of the tub, moving the water over my thighs and up to my pussy. “Open up.” She looked up at me. “Use your fingers. Just spread your lips open.”

Feeling the water running over my smooth, exposed labia was one thing, but having it spraying directly on my clit made me actually moan out loud with the pleasure of it.




“Here, let’s try this.” Mrs. B turned a knob on the shower massage. “That shaving cream can be irritating if it gets left on your skin. Want to make sure we get it all.”

The water pulsed now, and she aimed it right between my legs. I could barely keep my eyes open, it felt so good! My knees wanted to buckle, but I held my pussy lips open for the hot throb of the water moving back and forth over my clit.

“Oh please, Mrs. B!” I pleaded, my head going back, my eyes closing fully now. The water got closer and closer to my pussy, the throb faster, harder, and I moaned, my head going from side to side. I couldn’t stand it—it felt too good!

“Oh God,” I whispered, feeling my climax beginning. I saw her watching me, her eyes bright, and felt ashamed to be doing this here in front of her, but I couldn’t stop it. I shuddered and bucked my hips and moaned and bit my lip to try to keep from screaming as I came and came. Waves of pleasure rolled through my body, undulating my belly and hips toward the hot flow of the water between my legs.



Excerpt from Chapter 7…

I heard Doc whistle when she got downstairs and wondered what it would be like to have someone react to me like that. Then I remembered how he stood over me, pumping his cock in his fist as he looked between my legs. Did he think I was beautiful? He had said so… I heard the sound of Doc’s keys and the door close downstairs as I gathered the dresses and hung them back up in the closet with a sigh.

Mrs. B left her bras hanging out of her drawers and I started putting them back in, straightening. That’s when I saw it, although at first, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I just stared into her drawer, not touching it, as if it might burn me. It was an enormous black vibrator tangled in one of her pink bras.

Just looking at it made me feel faint, and I stood there imagining Mrs. B sliding it into her slick, shaved pussy. Did Doc watch her? Did she play by herself? I’d never used a dildo or a vibrator before, although I’d seen one (my mother had one hidden away in her drawers, too) and I’d heard a lot about them from my best friend, Jenny, who owned three and kept telling me I had to try one.

I took it out of the drawer, feeling the weight of it in my hand. It was huge, much bigger than any cock I’d ever seen, and it was shaped just like a cock, with the bulbous tip and veined shaft. I turned the red dial on the bottom and it buzzed gently, making me jump. Curious, I turned it further, and the buzzing got louder, stronger, the sound filling the room. I turned it off quickly, as if someone might hear, looking around and feeling guilty.

Still, my shorts felt damp now and my pussy had gone from tingle to throb. I reached my hand down, cupping myself through my shorts and rubbing, staring at the cock in my hand. What would it feel like? I bit my lip, rubbing a little faster and glancing back at the bed. It was so tempting… and so naughty.

“To hell with it!” I crawled onto the bed and took the big black cock with me. Rolling over to my back, I slid my shorts down over my hips. My panties were damp, all right, the crotch wet to the touch. Watching Mrs. B change had me more turned-on than I had even realized. I grabbed the vibrator, turning the dial on so it buzzed gently and slid the tip lightly over my panties.


“Oh my God,” I whispered as it hummed against my clit. I shivered, gasping, pressing the big black head harder against the white cotton crotch. It made my pussy sing! I tugged my panties off, spreading my legs wide and slowly slipped the vibrating tip through my soft, wet flesh. I moaned, my nipples getting hard under my t-shirt as I rubbed the shaft up and down between my slit. I couldn’t believe how good it felt!

Did Mrs. B lie in this bed and do this? I remembered the smell of her, the soft feel of her thighs between mine when I zipped her dress, the way her breasts moved and swayed when she bent over, revealing the rounded curves of her behind. Doc would come home and zip her out of that dress, I knew, and probably fuck her right here in this bed. And I would listen to them and touch myself and fantasize some more—I knew I would, I just couldn’t help it.

The vibrator was slick with my juices now, and I lifted it to my mouth, sucking on the tip, imagining I was tasting Mrs. B on the tip of Doc’s cock. I groaned, turning the dial up a little more and rubbing the black head back and forth over my clit again. God, that was good! Jenny wasn’t kidding, I thought, my other hand creeping up under my shirt, tweaking my nipple. The sensation sent shockwaves through me and I felt like I was floating.


What did Mrs. B think about when she played with this? Did she fantasize about another man? A woman? I remembered how she looked at me and touched me the day she shaved my pussy, how her eyes had watched me while I came. Did she fantasize about me? That thought went through me like fire and I moaned, rubbing the vibrator faster between my legs.

Did she fuck herself with this hard, humming cock until her pussy squelched and her body convulsed on the bed as she came? I pulled my legs back a little, looking down between them as I slid the big head down toward the opening of my pussy. I could imagine Mrs. B between my legs, that look in her eyes. Would she fuck me with it? Would she slide it slowly in, like I was now, her eyes watching it sink deeper into my flesh?

“Ohhhh God,” I whispered, feeling the vibration inside of me now, through my whole pelvis. I turned the dial up more, gasping and squirming on the bed. It felt huge inside, a thick, humming length filling me to bursting. I moved it, slow and easy, in and out of my pussy, listening to the soft, wet sounds it made.

I saw myself in the vanity mirror, my legs wide open, my t-shirt up, my nipples pointing toward the ceiling. I watched the enormous shaft disappear into my pussy about halfway and then reappear again, glistening in the lamplight. I fucked myself, imagining her fucking me, almost feeling her breath on my thighs, her hair brushing me, hearing her soft, encouraging moans.


“Mrs. B,” I murmured, lost in the fantasy, still watching myself in the mirror with half-closed eyes. I remembered how Mrs. B talked to Doc in bed and I tried the words on for size, feeling myself flush even as I said them. “Oh yeah, fuck me, Mrs. B… fill my pussy with that big cock.”

That’s when I heard it—a small hiss or gasp? I was so involved I didn’t stop, just slowed, listening. Was it the kids? Maybe I’d just imagined it and it was really just the buzz of the vibrator? I watched myself in the mirror and realized the door was open a little bit, just like it had been when I stood there and watched the Baumgartners.

I moved the vibrator deeper into my pussy, moaning a little, and catching a movement in the mirror out of the corner of my eye, a flash of red, and suddenly I just knew. I didn’t know how I knew, I just did, and the jolt that went through me was both shocking and exciting. Mrs. B had come back and was watching me.


I tried not to let on I knew, still fucking myself with the vibrator, moaning a little louder for her benefit. I saw her out of the corner of my eye now, saw her cheek resting on the doorframe, her mouth a little open. I wouldn’t let myself watch her for long, too afraid she would discover I knew, but I was fascinated by the movement I saw below the doorknob, that little flash of red, moving faster and faster.



I pulled the slick cock from my pussy, spreading my legs even wider, pulling them back to give her a full view as I slid the wet head up and down. I moaned whenever the buzzing tip brushed my clit, and I knew if I kept it there for more than a few seconds, I would come—and hard! I wanted it to last, so I teased my lips, inside and out, with the buzzing shaft and head, over and over.

“Fuck me, Mrs. B,” I murmured, full to bursting with the knowledge she was watching me, sliding the black head back into the opening of my pussy, feeling it spread me wide. “Fuck me with that big, black dick.”




I heard the little hiss again and knew she was hearing my words. That drove me on as I pushed it deeper into me, my hand moving faster and faster. I fucked myself hard now, my whole pelvis rocking with a delicious hum as I moaned and bucked my hips.

I thought I heard her breathing, just as fast as mine, and I let myself peek in the mirror, seeing the crack in the door was wider now. I saw her face, so flushed, her eyes half-closed, and I saw her dress pulled up and her hand slipped down into the crotch of the sheer black panties.


“God, I want you, Mrs. B,” I moaned, feeling my clit moving closer to the edge with each tender throb, the buzz of the vibrator sending hot, electric sparks through my pussy.

“Oh, I want you, I want you,” I whimpered, shoving the cock deep, closing my eyes and panting, working the dildo between my legs as fast and hard as I could.

That’s when I felt her fingers brushing my thighs. At first I thought I must be imagining it, but when I opened my eyes, there she was, her breasts spilling over the top of her dress, her nipples playing peek-a-boo with the material as her hand worked between her legs.




“Ohhh,” I moaned, feeling embarrassed and too close to coming to care.

“Shh,” she whispered, shaking her head and taking the end of the vibrator in her hand, twisting it and moving it in my flesh.

“Oh God,” I groaned, feeling her fucking me with the thick cock. “Yes, yes, please… oh, it feels so good!”

“Good girl,” she whispered, fucking me with the slick length, turning it up as high it would go, making me groan and writhe and twist on the bed. “Come for me.”

“Yes!” I lifted my hips in the air, off the bed toward her, bridging up, wanting more and more. Mrs. B groaned, seeing me splayed out like that, and I was so close I couldn’t stand it.

That’s when she sucked my clit into her mouth, sending me over the edge so fast I thought I was going to die quivering and trembling from the delicious throbbing wetness between my thighs.





I groaned when she slid the cock from my pussy and I came back down to earth, and to the bed, watching her lift it to her mouth and suck on the tip. I gasped as she lifted her dress further, pointing the wet cock down and sliding it under the elastic of her panties.





“Mrs. B,” I whispered, watching her rubbing the length up and down, up and down, her eyes closed, her moans filling the room. I whispered, “Oh God. You’re so beautiful,” although I didn’t know if she heard me. She was lost in the sensation, rocking against the buzzing cock rubbing over her pussy.



Then her eyes opened and met mine, her gaze moving down over my heaving chest, my taut nipples, my smooth, flat belly, to the slick wetness between my legs, still seeping with my juices. She groaned, putting one red-tipped finger against my clit, making me shiver, and then I watched as she came, her whole body flushing and shuddering with it.




“Fuck!” she whispered and let out a half-cry, half-groan, the cock lost somewhere between her legs. She gave me a dazed look as she slipped the vibrator out of her panties, her dress falling down to cover her.


“Mrs. B,” I started, not sure what I was even going to try to say.

She shook her head, turning the vibrator off but pressing the head to my mouth. I gasped, but I opened my lips, slowly sucking and licking the tip, tasting her for the first time, our eyes meeting, the air between us charged like some electrical field. I took the vibrator from her, continuing to lick at it as she watched.



Excerpt from Chapter 8…


“Some babysitter I am.” I gave a little laugh, pulling my knees up to my chin and watching the sun set across the horizon. Mrs. B glanced away from her book, a paperback copy of The Davinci Code that I had loaned her, and smiled.

“I’m glad the kids found something else to do.” She stretched on the lounge chair with a yawn.


They’d gotten in very late from their party, past two. I knew because I heard them laughing and trying to be quiet in the hallway as they fumbled their way to their room. Then came Mrs. B’s moans and Doc’s grunting followed by the rhythmic bang of the headboard against the wall and the squeak and shift of their bed.


I rolled around for a while trying to sleep but eventually couldn’t help slipping my hand between my legs and rubbing myself until I was breathless and panting and shuddering all over with my orgasm as I listened to the sounds of them together.


“I just feel bad.” I shrugged. “You brought me along to watch the kids, and they’re spending all their time with the Holmes’ au pair.” Doc had taken Janie and Henry over to the Holmes’ to spend the night.


Mrs. B set her book aside, reaching over and fingering a strand of my hair. “That’s not all you’re here for, you know.” My belly seized when she said that and I looked at her, wondering if I understood what she really meant. “You’re one of the family, really.” She tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “This was kind of like a gift for you, a thank you for everything you’ve done for us.” anikkasarapatio-05

“I’ve really…had a good time,” I told her, still not looking her way. “It’s been…a very exciting week.”

“I’m glad.” Mrs. B’s fingers moved in my hair, caressing me just behind the ear, sending shivers through me.

Sometimes I just didn’t know what to say or how to act around them. We never talked about the things that happened, although there was always some undercurrent of communication going on, lower than our words, like our bodies were talking to each other all the time—Mrs. B’s caresses, Doc’s slipping by me and Mrs. B in the kitchen, pulling me into the saddle of his hips for a moment before moving on. I felt like I was keeping a big, juicy secret I was just bursting to tell.

“That feels good.” I turned my face toward her palm, my eyes meeting hers. They had a light in them and she was giving me a lazy half-smile.

“It’s still so hot!” She stretched again, her tank top pulling up to reveal an expanse of belly over her shorts. “Let’s go for a swim.”

“Okay.” I stood up and brushed sand off my legs. “I’ll go get a suit on.”

Mrs. B grabbed my hand, her slender fingers squeezing mine. “No need. Private beach and the kiddos are gone, remember? Come on.”




She took my hands, pulling me closer so we were standing belly-to-belly, our breasts touching. I wanted her to kiss me, and I think she knew it. She smiled, squeezing my hands, and then turned toward the water.



“Last one in is a rotten egg!” She ran toward the shoreline. I only watched her for a moment, her sleek, tawny body streaking toward the water, and then I was after her, both of us tumbling into the surf, laughing and clutching each other in the waves.

Wet, our bodies slid together, and I’m not even sure how it happened, but we were wrapped around each other and her mouth found mine. Everything was so soft—her lips, her breasts pressing into mine, her thigh between my legs, the hair my hands got tangled in at the back of her head. It went on and on, the sun finally slipping down below the horizon as we kissed, moaning into each other’s mouths.



“Come here.” She pulled my hips forward, lifting me in the water, and I wrapped my legs around her body, pressing in tight. I felt the heat of her pussy against mine, more pronounced with the coolness of the water all around us, and I ground my hips against her as we kissed, making her moan.

Her fingers slipped down there between us, finding me, opening, probing, and I gasped and rocked, wanting more. My clit throbbed with that dull ache, like it would never stop. I wiggled and pressed against her, rubbing my breasts into hers, feeling my little nipples sliding wetly over the fullness of her chest.



She lifted me out of the water a little bit, her hands moving over my back, her mouth finding my nipples, sucking first one and then the other. I moaned, my legs wrapped just below her breasts, feeling them pressed hard into my belly.

Writhing and twisting on her as she made fast circles with her tongue around my hard nipples, I threw her off balance, and we tumbled into the water, both of us crying out. I came up sputtering and laughing and she did too, wiping salt water out of her eyes. Still, I reached for her, not wanting it to end, not wanting it to go back to the secret silence of just a few hours before. She took me in, kissing me again, sucking at my tongue, more urgent now.

“Come on.” She led me toward shore. “We’re safer on the beach.”



Our bodies were still slippery wet and she tasted like salt water when we kissed. Her thigh slipped up over mine as we lay on our sides, my hands moving slowly, tentative now, over her shoulders, her arms, her back.

She looked at me in the dim light, her hand moving down to cup my little breast, moving her thumb over the nipple and making me shiver. Then her tongue followed her fingers, making those same circles over my wet flesh. I felt her breasts pressing into my side and, reaching my fingers down, found a fat brown nipple and squeezed it.

“Oh God, yes!” She arched her back. Encouraged, I rolled it, tugged on it, rubbed my palm over it, and she moaned louder against my breasts, licking them faster, back and forth between them now.

“Oh Mrs. B!” I moaned when her hand slipped down between my legs, her fingers opening me up again, finding my center. My pussy was a hot pulse against her palm.



“I think you can call me Carrie,” she murmured as she slipped a finger inside. I flushed at the thought. I couldn’t even imagine calling her by her first name—still!—even with her hand rocking over my mound, her fingers, two now, moving in and out me. I found her other nipple, making her groan when I tugged at it, so fat and hard between my thumb and finger.

She kissed her way down my belly and when I realized where she was headed, my whole body filled with anticipation. My skin was still beaded with water and the air felt cool now the sun was gone. Her fingers never stopped moving in the darkness, seeking the heat at my core as her tongue slipped down my smooth, flat belly, and then over the swell of my thighs.

“Oh God,” I whispered, rocking against her hand, staring up at the blue velvet sky. “Please.” She knew what I was asking for and slipped her fingers out of me, pressing my legs back with her palms. I opened them for her, feeling a little less exposed in the near-dark, hanging onto my knees as I spread wide for her tongue.

“Such a pretty pussy,” she breathed, the heat of her words burning through me, and then she licked me, her tongue finding my clit and focusing right there, a wet little flicker that went on and on. I pulled back more, lifting my hips, and she seemed to understand, sliding her fingers back inside of me, twisting them as she started to move in and out.



“Yes,” I hissed, her tongue sending the most delicious sensations along my spine. “Oh God, Mrs. B, finger me, do it hard.”

She groaned, the vibration of her voice moving right through me as her fingers moved faster, harder, slamming into me as she worked my clit with her tongue. I rolled my head from side to side, dizzy with the feeling, wanting it to last forever and knowing I couldn’t possibly hold out against the soft lapping of her tongue, the pounding of her fingers into my pelvis.

“So close,” I whispered, and that made her lick faster, fuck me harder, making those little encouraging noises in her throat that sent shivers through me. My pussy was swollen and wet under her mouth. I felt the mix of my juices and her saliva running down my ass toward the blanket.

“Ohhhhhhh now, now!” I cried, unable to keep it back any more.



It came like a tidal wave, sweeping over and drowning me in my own pleasure until I gasped for air, shuddering and arching against her mouth, her fingers still working between my thighs. It moved through me so long I thought I was going to die right there, spread open on a blanket with Mrs. B’s face buried between my legs. Then it began to ebb, in hot, pulsing waves, like a tide slowly receding.

“Good girl,” she whispered against my pussy, feathering kisses all over my mound, giving me goose bumps. Staring, panting up at the sky, I saw the stars just starting to come out. I pulled at her, wanting her, and she came up and kissed me so I could taste me in her mouth. Sucking on her tongue, I groaned, feeling her breasts pressing into my side.

All exceptsare from Babysitting the Baumgartners, available on the following:

Kindle | Nook | iBooks | Kobo | Google

Now… who’s excited to see this movie?

Tell me what you think in the comments!


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Selena Kitt on the Self Publishing Round Table Podcast

I did an interview on the Self-Publishing Round Table Podcast last week. It was fun! I talk about publishing, give a little bit of my history, and of course, we discuss the Babysitting the Baumgartners movie.

Check it out!

If you listen and like it, please DO leave them a review on YouTube! 🙂

Questions and topics discussed:

Can you tell us a little about your writing history, how did you get here?
Selena talks a little about how her publishing company Excessica started
How did you discover Amazon?
What was the first hiccup after the initial ‘Kindle Gold Rush’?
How did you bounce back from having some of your books taken down/banned by Kindle?
How do the rest of the publishing platforms fare in terms of their erotica policies?
Tell us more about your publishing company, what do you do for your clients?
Are erotica sales staying consistent?
What is your release schedule looking like these days and has it changed over the years?
Have you ever thought of throwing it all in?
What keeps you going?
How is that new bookstore you started going?
Are you looking for investors or anything like that?
Have you thought about writing any other genres yourself?
You like writing erotica though, right?
Regarding promotion, what do you find to be the best way to get the word out
Question from David in the audience: What advice would you give your younger self just starting out?
Selena talks about the adult film that was made from her Babysitting the Baumgartners
Have you seen any increase in sales for that series because the movie has been announced?

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Alien Commander’s Bride – Scarlett Grove
Alien Hitchhikers – Greta Bowles
Alien Warrior’s Fated: Aizak – Shea Malloy
The Alien, The Doctor and the Virgin – Lili Zander
Bound By Tentacles – Minella Mason
Aboard the Mother Ship – Sophie Stern
Probed by the Aliens – Taylor Neptune
Mated to the Alien – Orion Blaze
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Dr. Foster’s Marriage Clinic – Sylvia Redmond
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ScAmazon 2 – Mammoth Consequences: The Digital Sweatshop

About a month ago, I did a post about the scams that are rocking the self-publishing world on Amazon. I pointed to the scam Kindle internet marketing course that Dave Koziel was doing, and the 15-year-old German kid who made 130K using his methods.

Today, I saw a video from Dave Koziel on YouTube. He apparently felt it necessary to explain to his viewers that his methods weren’t really “scammy” and why he, himself, is not really a scammer. Watch the video for yourself. (I don’t recommend eating anything beforehand, though, if you have a tendency to get queasy…)

You see, Koziel admits he’s not a writer but more of an internet marketer who hired ghostwriters to write his hundreds (literally, hundreds) of 8,000-10,000 word “books.” He would then publish those books under pen names on Amazon. In KU 1.0, those 8-10K books would yield $1.30-ish a borrow. After KU 2.0, Dave clearly found himself with an abundance of short books that paid about half-a-penny per-page-read. So about $0.40-$0.50. That’s quite a pay cut.

Then Dave realized, if he bundled all his books together (and, you know, published them under different titles, changing up that order with every new title) he’d get paid more and could maximize his “Kindle real estate” so to speak. In fact, he discovered, if he got his reader(s) to click to the end of that mass of titles, even if they didn’t read them, he’d get paid for a full read!

This is particularly interesting to me because, as I revealed in a previous post, a representative at Amazon had directly told me, at the very beginning of KU 2.0, that “skipping to the end of a book” would not result in a full read. Dave Koziel, on the other hand, says that Amazon directly told him that yes, skipping to the end of a book does result in a full read, and that they somehow planned this by design.

So, Amazon – which is it?

Clearly, the evidence shows us that skipping to the end of a book does, indeed, result in a full read. We now have conflicting reports about whether or not that was intentional, or even known, by Amazon.

Dave Koziel took it upon himself to put a call out to his readers at the beginning of his books, asking them to click to the end if they wanted him to get paid for all his hard work (or in his case, his ghostwriters’ hard work and his cash outlay…) He explained to them that Amazon had started paying authors by the page read, and in order to get fully paid, they had to skip to the end.

What reader, who picked up a book because they liked the cover/blurb enough to borrow it, wouldn’t click to the end after that plea?

Koziel claims he was just being honest with his readers. And his scam wasn’t a scam, or even a loophole – that Amazon told him they’d designed the system this way on purpose. I don’t know if that’s true or not. I do know that Koziel and the others he taught his “system” to clearly had some ethically questionable morals, but they weren’t technically doing anything against Amazon’s TOS. As with the short “scamphlets” (making books so short, just opening them would get a reader to 10% and count as a $1.30-ish borrow, no matter what content was inside) this “loophole” was built into Amazon’s system.

The shocking thing, to me, was that Amazon decided to pay authors by “pages read,” when in fact, they couldn’t actually count those pages. They threw out a communal pot of money to the authors and like some literary Hunger Games, we were forced to fight over it. And the thing is – the game was rigged. Not just Amazon’s algorithms that favor their own imprints (they do) or Amazon giving authors sweetheart deals in Kindle Unlimited.

No, this game was rigged by Amazon’s own design. In the first version of Kindle Unlimited, they created a perfect storm where erotica authors (who already wrote short) could get $1.30-ish per borrow for a 5000 word story. This made authors of 100,000 word novels mad–and allowed scammers internet marketers like Dave Koziel to create scamphlets–so Amazon closed that loophole. But it turns out, Amazon had “fixed” the loophole in Krap Unlimited 1.0 only to create an even bigger one in Krap Unlimited 2.0.

So the game’s still rigged.

David Gaughran and Phoenix Sullivan recently pointed out how many of these scammers have taken courses like Koziel’s and run amok with them, adding even scammier ideas along the way to the mix. These scammers are using giant click-farms to drive their books up in rank on the free charts (and Kindle Unlimited subscribers can still borrow books while they’re free).

They’re stuffing their titles full of keywords (a practice Amazon cracked down on years ago and have since let run rampant again) even going so far as to put keywords at the beginning of each title so they’ll appear high in the search rank. (This has made it nearly impossible to find anything on Amazon – they’ve effectively broken Amazon’s amazing search engine.)

While many authors have learned that adding a “bonus book” at the end of their titles can increase pages read (a bird book in the hand, and all that) and actually add value for readers – scammers have taken it upon themselves to add thousands and thousands of pages of “bonus” content. Sometimes they just put all their ghostwritten books in to increase that page count to 3000. Or they translate those books with Google Translate into twenty different languages and put those at the back. Some are even so bold as to just put gobbeldygook culled from the internet with a link at the front with an incentive (win a Kindle Fire!) to skip to the end.

They’re also putting their books into as many categories as possible (most of them unrelated to the actual content) and sometimes aping the looks of covers, titles and even author names, to appear high in searches for popular books.

So… why isn’t every author out there doing this? Well, the reality is, some of them are. They’ve found out about the loophole and have jumped on the bandwagon because… if you can’t beat them, join them? After all, the loophole is still open. Amazon has done nothing to close it. Skipping to the end of a book still results as a full read, right this very minute. Amazon recently capped the amount of pages read per book at 3000. They have also now disallowed (sort of… in certain cases… about what you’d expect?) putting the table of contents at the back of a book.

Of course, none of that has actually fixed the problem. And that is ALL the action they’ve taken. That’s it. They still have a loophole big enough to drive a $100,000 a month Mack truck through!

As Phoenix Sullivan pointed out: “How many ethical authors are feeling pressured into adopting black hat techniques seeing how many black hatters are making bank on them with seeming impunity? Some days even I’m tempted to grab a few EINs and a handful of throwaway email accounts, put on a black hat and go to town. I understand the system—all I need is one good month to game it…”

Authors learned very quickly that Amazon is where the real money is. Amazon allowed self-publishing stars like Joe Konrath, Amanda Hocking, and Hugh Howey to rise to the top after being rejected by the gatekeepers or legacy/traditional publishing, to make thousands, hundreds of thousands, from their work.

When self publishing first became a thing, everyone claimed that with no gatekeepers there was going to be a “ton of crap flooding the market!” Oh noez! Of course, what they meant was a “ton of crap writing” from authors who couldn’t write up to legacy standards.

I don’t think anyone thought, “from hundreds of ghostwriters paid by internet marketers!”

Forget devaluing our work by offering it for $0.99 or free. Forget devaluing “literature” by allowing self-published authors to publish directly to readers. That wasn’t the “race to the bottom” everyone worried about. THIS is the true race to the bottom.

Dave Koziel claimed he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He says he’s not a scammer (even though he admits he’s not really a writer.) He’s a self-proclaimed “internet marketer,” just looking to make a buck on the internet. Nothing wrong with that, is there?

Actually, there is.

Koziel is just one example of his kind. (In fact, he teaches and sells internet courses to others who want to copy what he’s done.) And if Koziel alone has hundreds of ghostwritten books, and they’re not plagiarized or written like a third grader (two things he claims in his video…) then the reality is, he’s accumulated material at a rate that no reasonable writer could accomplish. Only a few outliers (Amanda Lee, I’m looking at you, girl! 😛 ) can reasonably write 10K a day without burning out. But Koziel can hire 10 ghostwriters a day. 100 a week, if he wanted to. He can mass-produce titles at will.

Granted, the system itself is the problem when everyone is vying for a piece of the same pie. The more scammy you get, the more money you make. Yay you! But as the system starts to erode, and more and more mercenary types get on board, the further things collapse. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with hiring a ghostwriter (Patterson does it all the time in the legacy world – and no one cares) there’s a problem when people start taking advantage of ghostwriters and working it all like a “system.”

If you pay a ghostwriter well, and that ghostwriter does a good job, that’s a legitimate business transaction. But most (if not all) of these odesk-type ghostwriters are undercharging (that hurts legitimate ghostwriters) because they’re overseas (there’s outsourcing again) and IMers can (and do) take advantage of that. There’s a difference between an author who has a story to tell who hires a ghostwriter (either because they don’t have time to write it, or because they don’t have the skills) and an IMer who gives an army of ghostwriters the trope-du-jour and says, “write me as many stories as possible.”

These guys may hire click farms, as Gaughran and Sullivan noted – but guys like this are also getting legitimate readers and building a following. (They talk a lot about building mailing lists so they can accumulate a way to sell all their scammy internet marketing things, not just books…) So what’s wrong with what he does? Clearly he doesn’t see anything wrong with it. But there is something wrong with it. I call it the Jurassic Park problem. Remember Jeff Goldblum’s speech to Hammond about cloning dinosaurs? When Hammond asked (like this guy Koziel) what’s wrong with what he’s done?

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it – it didn’t require any discipline to acquire it. You read what others had done and you took the next step. You didn’t earn the knowledge for yourselves, so you don’t take any responsibility for it. You stood on the shoulders of geniuses to accomplish something as fast as you could, and before you even knew what you had, you patented it, and packaged it, and slapped it on a plastic lunchbox, and now you’re selling it. Well… you were so preoccupied with whether or not you could, you didn’t stop to think if you should…”

Since Koziel likes YouTube videos so much – here’s one he and all of his minions should watch:

The problem is now we really are competing for readers with this guy. It’s like the outsourcing to other countries that corporations do to trim margins in any business – it’s a slippery slope. And now what do we have? A digital sweat shop environment. Writers terrified of falling off a 30-day cliff, utilizing voice software like Dragon to keep up and write as many words as possible as fast as they can, creating shared pen names to try to get a foothold in a flooded market.

It’s hard enough to gain visibility on Amazon these days, when there are plenty of excellent, legitimate writers out there putting out some great books. Because the reality of the gatekeepers was not that there was too much “garbage” out there to publish – the reality was always that there was never enough room at their table. There was plenty of stuff leftover that just went to waste – that’s the stuff that writers can now self-publish, now that the traditional gatekeepers are gone. And much of it is great stuff – books readers prove, with their buying dollars – they actually want to read.

Today, self-publishing authors don’t have to worry about getting past the gatekeepers. But they have to compete with internet marketers who see Kindle as a “business opportunity” and who are using it, solely, to make money. We’re competing with someone who can scam Amazon’s system (which, admittedly, is Amazon’s fault – they’ve made it “scammable”) and they’ve proven with hard numbers that they can take upwards of $100,000 or more a month out of the pot.

There are people in the world whose ethics are very fluid. Who think, “Why shouldn’t I take advantage of this giant money-making loophole?” And when those people don’t stop to think if they should, just because they can, and they decide to take advantage… there are plenty of people who come afterward who feel like they have to, as well – just to level the playing field.

How can a “real author” (as opposed to a scammer internet marketer) compete in a self-publishing world where scammers internet marketers can buy and publish hundreds of titles at a time? Where they can make enough money scamming publishing their deluge of titles to spend those ill-gotten gains on Amazon marketing (Dave Koziel says he was paying Amazon to market his “books”) and Facebook ads, outspending legitimate authors by thousands, sometimes hundreds of thousands?

Who can compete with that? Unless an author is going to throw up their hands and decide (a temptation that Phoenix Sullivan so eloquently expressed above) “The hell with it, if I can’t beat them, I might as well join them!” how is that author going to have a chance?

In his video, Koziel says he can see why authors might be angry at him… but I don’t think he really does see. He feels he’s simply taking advantage of a legitimate business opportunity. Like most internet marketers, he’s looking at the short-term gain, and not paying attention to the long-term consequences. Or any consequences at all.

Granted, Amazon created this monster. All of these loopholes, from the scamphlets in KU 1.0 to today’s garbage-stuffed tomes in KU 2.0, could have been prevented with a little forethought on Amazon’s part. I told them this was a risk when they decided to change to paying by pages-read and they either a) lied to me, knowing readers could skip to the end for a full-read or b) they actually didn’t know that skipping to the end would result in a full-read. I’m not sure which is worse.

But if Amazon hadn’t started down this road to begin with, most of these scammers “internet marketers” wouldn’t have gained a foothold in the first place. Now they’re like sharks circling in bloody waters, and they’re not about to leave, unless someone cleans up this mess. And even if Amazon takes action, KDP and self-publishing is now a hunting ground they’re not likely to give up any time soon.

Even if Amazon cleaned up the waters tomorrow, these scammers internet marketers would continue to work the system, looking for ways to game it. Like the raptors in Jurassic Park–they have no ethical dilemmas whatsoever–they’ll continue to test the fences for weaknesses.

As Koziel’s video goes to show. These internet marketers will say and do anything to make money in the system. They haven’t paid their dues. Goldblum’s argument applies categorically – no discipline was required to obtain it, so they take no responsibility for it. Because they’re not writers, because they don’t care about the craft, telling a story, supplying a reader with real value and creating a real relationship between author and reader (rather, they just want to collect mailing list subscribers so they can spam them…) They remove themselves from the “system” they are gaming, and see it as just that – a system to game.

To them, it is a game. And thanks to Amazon’s lackadaisical attitude, they’re winning.

It’s readers and real authors who are losing. Because of the crap (real crap – now we know what it looks like) flooding Amazon’s virtual shelves, because of the keyword-stuffed or deceptive titles muddying up the search waters, real authors and readers are the ones who lose in this game. Readers can’t find what they want to read (I know, as a reader, I can’t find anything on Amazon anymore in the Kindle store, because of the keyword stuffed crap) and authors can’t compete with scammers internet marketers who could care less who they hurt with their scams.

They do hurt people. Real people. Because KDP Select is paid out of a communal pot, there is a finite number that decreases when scammers internet marketers decide to make “books” their “business.” Except they’re not writers, and they don’t really care about books. Or readers. Or the self-publishing community. Their idea of “paying it forward” is to monetize their scams “knowledge of the system” and sell it to others so they, too, can be scammers internet marketers.

Not once do they talk about craft–about plots and voice and point of view. Those are pesky details they outsource to someone else. They’re not even providing outlines – just pointing to the best-selling trope of the hour (what is it this month? is it shifters? billionaires? navy seal shifter billionaires?) and letting the ghostwriters do all the heavy lifting. While they sit back, package and re-package the “work,” publish and republish titles (sometimes dozens of times – and Amazon doesn’t care) with new ASINs when they drop too far in rank (to gain those extra five free days in KDP Select) and find any possible way to scam internet market themselves as high of a paycheck as they can manage for the month.

Never once thinking about or caring about the authors who are writing real stories, for real readers, who can’t humanly produce on the mass level in the digital sweatshop environment these scammers internet marketers have created – where Amazon has allowed them to flourish. This is where we all work now, thanks to the scammers internet marketers.

Thanks to Amazon.

I hope Dave Koziel meant it when he said he could understand why authors were angry with him – perhaps his video is proof that maybe, just maybe, he’s growing the seed of a conscience. Maybe he’s finally thinking, albeit a little too late, whether or not he should do something, instead of focusing on whether or not he can. 

But I don’t live in a fantasy world. I know Dave Koziel and those like him are just doing what they do. They’ve found a lucrative hunting ground, and they’re going to continue doing what they do (while occasionally justifying or spinning it in a YouTube video) until they can’t do it anymore.

In the meantime, authors and readers continue to lose – and their trust in Amazon wanes.


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Billionaires in Vegas – Cynthia Dane
Billionaire’s Disguise – Kendra King
Fate Interrupted – KB Winters
Caught Up in You – Bella Bentley
Rules for the Billionaire – C. C. Morian
Rich Vengeance: A Dark Romance – Deana Farrady
Nursing My Husband’s Billionaire Boss – Desiree Hart
Locked In – Myra Song
His Favorite Mistake – JL Dillard
Billionaire Expectations – Jo Henley
Billionaire’s Baby Girl – Sophie Sawyer
Billionaire and the Bratty Barista – Karly Dalton
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Christmas at Purgatory – Jennifer Bene
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One Night for Three – Alexa Bond
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Bon Voyeur – Delores Swallows
Kiss Me – Emme Salt
Used – L M Adventure
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Miami Hotwife Club – Blake Paul
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The Visitor – K.D. West
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NSFW: Sara Luvv (Ronnie) Photo Shoot from Babysitting the Baumgartners (They’re Making My Book into a Porn Movie)

Since you can’t preview the movie like I just did (sorry!) I thought I’d give you a great big YUMMY treat! This is the one and only Ms. Sara Luvv in several photo shoots taken on the set of Babysitting the Baumgartners. I warn you – this is NSFW (not safe for work) but it is so delicious! And it will give you the biggest sneak peek into the movie that you’ve seen yet. Are you ready? Get ready. There are a LOT of photos in this post but you’ll be so glad you made it to the very end… 😀

All excepts below are from Babysitting the Baumgartners, available on the following:

Kindle | Nook | iBooks | Kobo | Google

The Yellow Bikini


The Orange Bikini

These were taken during Ronnie’s solo-scene in the shower – after she’s been out on the patio with Mrs. B…


They had a large Jacuzzi tub—which I was dying to soak in one night—and a separate shower. I turned on the water, adjusting the temperature, and peeled off my suit, tossing it into the sink.*

It felt good to soap up and wash the oil and salt water off my body.*


I stood under the needling spray for a long time. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mr. Baumgartner’s hand moving, lightning fast, up and down the length of his cock. It gave me a tight, funny feeling in my belly. That throbbing between my legs hadn’t quit.*

When I slipped the soap between my thighs, rubbing it over the soft, curly hair there, I remembered what Mrs. B said about waxing and flushed. I didn’t have much hair to begin with, just a sparse, dark triangular patch. What would it feel like to be completely smooth?*

I slipped my fingers past my swollen lips, remembering how soft and slick Mrs. B’s oiled-up thigh was against mine, how dark and hard her nipples were. My clit ached at the thought and I touched it, rubbing it slowly under my fingers.*

The image which kept coming back to me, though, was Mr. Baumgartner and his cock—his eyes locked on mine as he came. It made me embarrassed and excited to know seeing me and his wife lying together on the beach topless was enough to get him aroused—to get him off. Was he imagining something, or just watching us, or both?*

I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about it, but I couldn’t help it. The more I thought about it, the faster my fingers moved over my clit. Leaning back against the tiles, I rubbed and rubbed it. The water made my nipples tingle. The images of the afternoon flashed through my mind—Mrs. B’s fingers pulling my bikini aside to look at my pubic hair, the swell and shift of her heavy breasts, the way the oil and water pooled on her tanned skin, the way her eyes lingered on my chest and belly and thighs.*

Moaning softly, I slipped one finger inside my pussy, rocking against my hand and feeling a low hum building in my lower belly. That steady throb between my legs which had begun outside in the sun was like a fast, heavy drumbeat now keeping time with my pounding heart. Was he really watching us that whole time? Could he hear us? How long had he been sitting there, stroking himself?*

The sight of his cock, bursting like a spewing geyser over his fist, the pleasure on his face, the way his eyes met mine—oh God, I couldn’t stand it. I shuddered and moaned and arched against the tiles as I came, remembering his dark eyes, his pumping hand, his bucking hips and spurting cock.*

Flushed from my orgasm and the heat of the shower, I rested my hot cheek against the cool tile for a moment, closing my eyes and feeling the waves of pleasure slowly receding.*

I felt shy and embarrassed to see him, now, wondering what I would say, what he might say.*

When my legs felt steady enough to hold me, I got out of the shower and dried off, wrapping myself in one of the big white bath sheets. My room was across the hall from the bathroom, and the Baumgartner’s was the next room over…*

As I made my way across the hall, I heard Mrs. B’s voice from behind their door. “You want that tight little nineteen-year-old pussy, Doc?”*


I stopped, my heart leaping, my breath caught. Oh my God. Were they talking about me? He said something, but it was low, and I couldn’t quite make it out. Then she said, “Just wait until I wax it for you. It’ll be soft and smooth as a baby.”

Shocked, I reached down between my legs, cupping my pussy as if to protect it, standing there transfixed, listening. I stepped closer to their door, seeing it wasn’t completely closed, still trying to hear what they were saying. There wasn’t any noise, now.

“Oh God!” I heard him groan. “Suck it harder.”*


My eyes wide, I felt the pulse returning between my thighs, a slow, steady heat. Was she sucking his cock? I remembered what it looked like in his hand—even from a distance, I could tell it was big—much bigger than any of the boys I’d ever been with.

“Ahhhh fuck, Carrie!” He moaned. I bit my lip. Hearing Mrs. B’s first name felt so wrong, somehow. “Take it all, baby!”

All? My jaw dropped as I tried to imagine, pressing my hand over my throbbing mound. Mrs. B said something, but I couldn’t hear it, and as I leaned toward the door, I bumped it with the towel wrapped around my hair. My hand went to my mouth and I took an involuntary step back as the door edged open just a crack. I turned to go to my room, but I knew that they would hear the sound of my door.

“You want to fuck me, baby?” she purred. “God, I’m so wet…did you see her sweet little tits?”

“Fuck, yeah,” he murmured. “I wanted to come all over them.”*


“Do you want to see me eat it?” She moved up onto him, still stroking his cock. “Do you want to watch me lick that sweet, shaved cunt?”

I pressed a cool palm to my flushed cheek, but my other hand rubbed the towel between my legs as I watched. I’d never heard anyone say that word out loud and it both shocked and excited me.

“Oh God, yeah!” He grabbed her tits as they swayed over him. I saw her riding him, and knew he must be inside of her. “I want inside her tight little cunt.”

I moved the towel aside and slipped my fingers between my lips.

He’s talking about me!

The thought made my whole body tingle, and my pussy felt on fire. Already slick and wet from my orgasm in the shower, my fingers slid easily through my slit.*


“Yeah, baby!” She leaned over, her breasts dangling in his face. His hands went to them, his mouth sucking at her nipples, making her squeal and slam down against him even harder. “You want her on her hands and knees, her tight little ass in the air?”

He groaned, and I rubbed my clit even faster as he grabbed her and practically threw her off him onto the bed. She seemed to know what he wanted, because she got onto her hands and knees and he fucked her like that, from behind. The sound of them, flesh slapping against flesh, filled the room.*


Doc’s eyes looked down between their legs, like he was watching himself slide in and out of her.

“Fuck!” Mrs. B’s voice was muffled. “Oh fuck, Doc! Make me come!”

He grunted and drove into her harder. I watched her shudder and grab the covers in her fists.*


He didn’t stop, though—his hands grabbed her hips and he worked himself into her over and over. I felt weak-kneed and full of heat, my fingers rubbing my aching clit in fast little circles. Mrs. B’s orgasm had almost sent me right over the edge. I was very, very close.*


“That tight nineteen-year-old cunt!” He shoved into her. “I want to taste her.” He slammed into her again. “Fuck her.” And again. “Make her come.” And again. “Make her scream until she can’t take anymore.”*


I leaned my forehead against the doorjamb for support, trying to control how fast my breath was coming, how fast my climax was coming, but I couldn’t. I whimpered, watching him fuck her and knowing he was imagining me…me!*


I came then, too, shuddering and shivering against the doorframe, biting my lip to keep from crying out…*


All exceptsare from Babysitting the Baumgartners, available on the following:

Kindle | Nook | iBooks | Kobo | Google

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Selena Previews Babysitting the Baumgartners (They’re Making My Book into a Porn Movie)

Guess what I just finished doing? Watching the rough cut of Babysitting the Baumgartners! Perks of being the author – I get to pre-screen. And OMG… you guys! You guys! I’m dying!

This was me as I’m watching the opening scene, listening to the voice-over of Ronnie, speaking my words (my words!) as she packs her bag for a hot time in Florida with the Baumgartners…

It’s sinking in… this is a movie. Made of my book. These are my characters, brought to life, walking around, talking. Whoa… not just talking. There’s Mrs. B in her microbikini… and she’s oiling up… everything… and there’s Ronnie watching… and OMG Doc’s there in the background watching… and I’m all…

The next thing I know… I’m lost in a story. Oh don’t get me wrong, there’s sex. All kinds of sex. SO. MUCH. SEX. But there’s emotion, and love, and care, and tenderness. And heat. Oh my god, so much heat. I’m dying. I can’t even…

Except, uh… this thing is three hours and fifty minutes long! It’s longer than Titanic! But I’m not bored. In fact, I can’t look away from the screen. And if you think the shaving scene, and Ronnie and Gretchen playing with Mrs. B’s toy, and Mrs. B and Ronnie together are gonna be hot? (And OMG they are… they soooo are…) But it’s the kitchen sex scene with Doc and Ronnie that blew me away. I mean… seriously… that was one of the most jaw-dropping, panty-dropping, Sybian-worthy scenes in porn I have ever seen in my entire life.

And before I know it, it’s over. Wahhhh!

That’s right, I cried. I literally cried. Don’t judge me! 😛 When Ronnie is on the phone with Gretchen, and she’s got that secret little smile on her face, remembering her time with the Baumgartners, and they agree to hook up…  What an ending!

And then I was all:

I can’t wait for you guys to see this movie! I couldn’t have imagined it better. Kay Brandt is just a genius director, and she nailed my vision (in sooo many ways!) You guys are gonna love this thing. Two-ish months and counting. The premiere will likely be some time at the end of June. Hold onto your butts – (or, someone else’s!) – because this is gonna be SO. GOOD. And I can say that with complete confidence now.

Now… I think I’m gonna go watch it again… 😀

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HOT! Anikka Albrite (Mrs. B) Photo Shoot from Babysitting the Baumgartners (They’re Making My Book Into a Porn Movie)

Check out this extremely sexy photo shoot of Anikka Albrite on the set of Babysitting the Baumgartners.

Anikka Albrite in a hot tub.

In a micro-bikini.

Does it get much better than this?

Well, maybe not until the movie’s out!














BONUS! Pool side photo shoot!













She makes a lovely Mrs. B, doesn’t she?


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