Selena Kitt - Crazy About the Baumgartners

He swallowed. “No.”

I circled my clit with my finger, shivering. I was so fucking hot. The heat of the sun was making me sweat but my pussy was on fire. I had to come. And I wanted him to watch me. Doc had forgotten the camera. He knelt between my legs, focused on my fingers moving back and forth, around and around. My nipples were so hard and I wished he could suck them. I could see his cock tenting his suit and it made my mouth water.

“You can’t touch me?” I asked the question, pleading. He shook his head, his expression pained. “Well… can you touch yourself?”

He sighed, shaking his head.

“Technically speaking… probably shouldn’t.” He glanced at the house, then back at me, moaning when my fingers slipped into my pussy. “But fuck it.”

He yanked his boxers down and grabbed his cock in his fist. The sight of it made me gasp, the way he handled himself, so rough, pumping it fast as he watched me touch myself.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his breath coming faster.

“Oh Doc, I want your cock,” I moaned, pushing my hips up, offering my pussy. “You can put it anywhere you want. Anywhere.”

He groaned, shaking his head. “Just keep doing that. Finger yourself. Jesus, girl. That’s so fucking hot.”

“Oh but I want you,” I pleaded. My clit throbbed, my pussy clenching, wanting to be filled.

“I want you too,” he panted, jerking his cock faster, balls swinging. God, I wanted to taste him, lick all that saltiness from his scrotum, let him fuck my throat. It was driving me crazy, having him so close, but not having him.

“Oh Doc, please, please, fuck me.” I begged him. “Just…put your cock in me when you come. Please. Just… oh… fuck… please!”

“Ahhhh God, Gretchen, I want you so fucking bad.” He gave a low, frustrated groan, looking at my pussy like a drowning man.

“Just rub it up and down my slit,” I whimpered. “Just once. Just… oh… please…”

He growled and thrust closer, but his cock didn’t touch my pussy. I rubbed my clit faster, a brutal assault, my thighs quivering with need. I felt my orgasm coming, something thick and coiled in my belly, waiting to spring. Doc stopped to lick his palm, making his cock wet, and I knew he was imagining what it would feel like to fuck my wet little pussy instead of his own fist.

“I’m gonna come,” I panted, meeting his eyes, a halo around his head from the sun. “Oh Doc, I’m going to come for you.”

“Yes!” he cried, pumping his cock so fast his hand was a blur. “Oh Gretchen, come for me, sweetheart. Make yourself come for me!”

“Only if you come first.” My fingers slowed, oh God, it was so hard to stop, so hard to hold it back. I clenched my ass as if I could keep my orgasm in. I was so very close. “Come with me, Doc. I want your cum. Give me that. Come all over my pussy!”

He gave a low, pained groan, thrusting once, twice, three times into his tightly closed fist, his cock erupting with hot, white jets of cum. The first stream overshot my pussy. It overshot my stomach and my tits. His cum sprayed my cheek, splashing my lips, and I gasped, reaching my tongue out and tasting him.

Doc moaned again, another flood of cum exploding from the head of his cock, this one not quite as strong. He left another ropey white stream over my belly, and the last, glorious burst was right against my pulsing little clit. Just the heat and pressure of it made me come-I didn’t even need my fingers, although I used them, rubbing his cum into my pussy, my hips lunging upward, my pussy squeezing down violently against nothing, again and again, aching with the empty throb.

He sat back on his heels, dazed, panting, as I cleaned myself off. I scooped up every bit of his cum, licking my fingers and hands clean while he watched, looking like a starving man chained just out of reach at a banquet.

When we were dressed again-which we did in silence-and sitting in the sand, facing the waves rolling in on the beach, I finally decided to just ask. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to know. Ronnie had planted a seed of doubt in my head that had been growing weed-like in my brain, as much as I tried to ignore it.

“Doc, I want you so much.” My voice was soft as I used a stick to trace patterns in the sand. “You and her too. Why can’t it be me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, although I was sure he knew. He had to know.

“Why can’t I be like…” I swallowed. “Like Ronnie. Like Dani.”

He sighed but didn’t say anything. He just looked out at the water.

“It couldn’t be more perfect,” I insisted. “I mean, I live with you!”

“That’s part of the problem,” he said finally.

“What do you mean?”

“Gretchen, it’s not about you.” He looked over at me, shaking his head. “It’s really not. You’re young and beautiful and desirable. Very, very desirable. And we love you. We do. Very much. You’re like a part of the family-”

“But!” I interrupted, snapping at him, although I didn’t mean to. “I can hear the ‘but’ already. But what? But I’m not good enough to be your lover?”

“No.” He reached over to touch my shoulder. Just that made my knees turn to water. “That’s not it…”

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

I walked on my wobbly knees down the beach. I didn’t go in the direction of the house. I went the other way instead, looking at the sun on the water, poking at the sand, picking up seashells, trying to lose myself in the journey, let it carry me away. By the time I got back to the house, dark skies had rolled in and it was beginning to rain.

The house was quiet. Janie and Henry were playing Go Fish, of all things, with an old deck of cards at the kitchen table. Mrs. B was napping on the sofa with the baby sleeping in the crook of her arm, the TV on but muted.

Upstairs, I stripped out of my suit in the bathroom to take a long, hot, stinging shower. Then I went across the hall to my room. I quickly towel dried my hair and put on a pair of pajama bottoms and a white tank top. It wasn’t even dinner time, but I didn’t feel like going back out again. Besides, the sound of thunder rolling outside told me it was still raining, so we’d likely be stuck inside for a while.

Then Doc called to me from the room next door-the room he shared with Mrs. B.

“Come here.” He crooked his finger at me from where he was sitting on the bed with his laptop when I peeked my head inside the door.

I went, like a petulant child.

“I’m sorry.” He reached a hand out, stroking my wet hair, looking at the droplets of water beading on my skin. “It’s complicated. I wish it wasn’t.”

I just nodded, not saying anything.

“I thought you’d like to see.” Doc patted the bed beside him.

I hesitated for a moment, climbing up and sitting next to him, leaning back on the propped up pillows. I gasped when I saw what filled the screen.

My own pussy. My clit, to be exact, the hood pulled back slightly, the pink skin around it wrinkled, convoluted. The picture was so clear and sharp it was stunning. You could see every little grain of sand sticking to my skin.

“Look.” Doc pointed, touching my clit-on the screen-and I felt it throb between my legs. Oh my God, I could have sworn he was stroking my clit, just like he was doing to the image in front of us. “So fucking lickable.”

That made me whimper and squeeze my thighs together. I leaned my head against his arm as he flipped through each image. We both looked at them, silent. I went from wearing my bikini to nude, the photos zooming in closer and closer. There was a shot of my nipple, pink and pursed, that Doc paused at. He made a low noise in his throat before moving on.