Selena Kitt - Crazy About the Baumgartners

“You.” I whispered. I was the desperately hungry one. “Both of you.”

“Fuck, that’s hot.” His fingers massaged me through my tights. My pussy lips were so swollen and fat. Everything down there was squishy. “I wish I could have seen you with the light on. Is your pussy shaved?”

I nodded. “But Mrs. B said I should let a little grow back. At the top.”

“Blonde?” His eyes brightened.

“Yes.” I bit my lip. “Like my hair.”

He groaned, palm grinding my pussy, his cock like a foot-long pipe against my thigh.

“And these gorgeous tits.” His other hand had found something to do, cupping my breast through my blouse. My hard nipple grew even harder, as if it could pop right out for his waiting fingers. “My God, Gretchen, do you know what you do to me? You turn me into a fucking animal.”

“I was just carrying my basket through the woods on the way to Grandma’s house, Mr. Wolf,” I teased, rocking my hips. He could get me off like this. Just like this. A fire burned through me at the thought. He could make me come in his arms while his wife and kids were just a room away and no one would ever know.

“You’re so damned tempting.” He smiled, watching my face as I looked at him through half-closed eyes while he rocked my pussy toward orgasm.

“Gretchen?” Mrs. B called from the family room. “Can you bring me Holly’s diaper bag?”

The sound of her voice made him take a step back. I straightened my skirt, my blouse, still trying to catch my breath. The diaper bag was on the kitchen table and I headed for it on shaky legs.

“Wait.” Doc caught my arm, whispering. “Gretchen, I’m sorry. I’m… drunk. Forgive me?”

“I… um…” He had to know there was nothing to forgive. He wasn’t taking advantage of me. My God, I wanted it as much as he did.

“Don’t tell Carrie.” He left, disappearing back up the stairs.

I made it through the rest of the night on autopilot, cleaning up after dinner, tucking two sugar-hyped now-crashing kids into bed, rocking the baby to sleep, saying goodnight to the Baumgartners as they sat on the sofa watching The Office, laughing together.

But that night, I heard them having sex. I listened to the animal growl and thrust of him, the headboard banging against the wall over and over, and I wondered if he was thinking about me when he came.

Because I was. I came three times, panting and tangled in my covers, thinking about him.

The Baumgartners went to New England to visit Doc’s parents for Thanksgiving and took Janie, Henry, and Holly with them. They asked me to come along, but I told them I’d been invited to my aunt’s for the holiday. It wasn’t true, of course. My aunt had denounced me as a slut and had kicked me out the summer after my senior year when she found me giving Jake Harris a blowjob on the couch in the basement. The truth was, I hated Thanksgiving. It was a non-holiday to me that served no purpose except to eat and bicker with family members you hardly ever saw. And that just reminded me I didn’t have any family to bicker with, and that made me sad.

Last year, Ronnie had invited me to her parents’ and we had dinner with them and her sister, Amy, which had been okay, but still painful. For me, it was like being pricked with needles all night long-not anything that was going to kill me, but still damned painful and annoying. So this year, I spent Thanksgiving at the Baumgartners, in their empty house. I ordered Chinese food and ate it in front of the 80-inch television while binge-watching Friends on DVD all weekend. On Friday, I had the worst MSG hangover and stayed in bed until three.

Then I managed to clean up the house and decided, after a liquid dinner of organic whole milk mixed with Carnation Instant Breakfast, that I wanted to go clubbing. Christian had called me after that one night, but I’d never called him back. Rude, I knew, but I didn’t want a regular fuck buddy, and he wasn’t really boyfriend material-not still living at home, going to the community college, and playing Halo and Call of Duty until all hours of the night. Of course, who was I to talk, after spending eighteen hours in front of the TV?

So I thought maybe I’d call him and we could meet up at the club. Since I had the Baumgartners’ place all to myself. Including their giant king sized bed. The truth was, I wanted to fuck on it. I wanted to be fucked on it, to imagine myself in between the two of them. I borrowed Mrs. B’s dress, the one she’d worn that night. It had been skin tight on her, but it was a little loose on me. Still, I looked damned good. Maybe, I thought, I could pick up two tonight for the price of one. I was sure Christian wouldn’t mind bringing another girl home.

I called him, but when he finally answered, I was already at the club, and apparently he was out of town-Texas-with his folks. He sounded real disappointed and said he’d make it up to me when he got back. I said, sure, we’d get together. Of course, I lied. I knew what I was doing as I ponied up to the bar and let some guy buy me a drink. I was alone, I was missing the Baumgartners, and I was looking for any way I could to remedy that. If it meant getting drunk and bringing another strange guy home, then that was what I was going to do.

I sat at the bar, sipping my mojito, and hunted the place with my gaze. I skipped over the couples. They were easy to spot. Not because they were kissing or dancing close, but because they stood near each other, almost touching, familiar, but didn’t talk. Their eyes were mostly on other people. I ignored the dancers too. Most had already found a willing victim for the night’s main event. Instead, I scanned the periphery. I was looking for a wallflower, a shy one, someone who would jump at the chance to go home in my Saturn and do just what I told him to.

Several guys approached while I sat there, but I rebuffed them. If they were confident enough to come up to me, they weren’t what I was looking for. I went through two more drinks-paid for by two other guys-and finally decided to take a break and headed to the restroom. I smiled, remembering standing in line with Mrs. B. The line wasn’t as long tonight.

When I came out of the stall to wash my hands, there was only one sink empty. I squeezed in, pumping pink suds into my palms, completely oblivious to my surroundings until she spoke.

“Hi, Gretchen.”

I looked up, meeting her gaze in the mirror. She was putting on mascara and looked incredible.

“Hi, Ronnie.”

I thought that would be it. My heart was in my throat. I grabbed some paper towel, expecting her to be gone when I turned around. But she was there. Right behind me. Close enough to touch. And I wanted to touch her. God help me, I did.

“Can we talk?”

“Here?” I looked around the bathroom, dubious.

“Out there?” she suggested, wrinkling her nose. Of course, that was out. Too much noise and confusion. Then she looked at me again and grabbed my hand. It was soft and warm and familiar and instantly broke my heart. “Got your car?”

I nodded. “Won’t Vince miss you?”

“I’m here with friends. Let me tell them. I’ll meet you right outside.”

Of course I thought she was going to ditch me. I shivered outside-still sweaty from all the body heat and I hadn’t brought a coat-and figured I’d wait for fifteen minutes and then go home and lick my wounds. But that isn’t what happened at all. Ronnie showed up, just like she said she would, shivering herself, although she’d been smart enough to bring a jacket. Her skirt was almost as short as mine.

“Let’s go, I’m freezing.” Ronnie’s teeth chattered all the way to the parking lot. I unlocked the Saturn’s doors and we got in. I started the car to turn on the heat. Late November in Michigan was cold-cold enough to snow, although it wasn’t.