Selena Kitt - Letters to the Baumgarters

“Oh god!” He moaned when my fingers found their way down between the crack of his ass, pressing gently, teasing that dimpled recess. “Oh yes!”

Encouraged, I left my finger there when I took him into my mouth, watching his face twist with pleasure when I inserted it up to the first knuckle. I’d had plenty of men do this to me-but very few who would let me do it to them. It was a delightful, and very exciting, surprise.

“You need to stop,” he murmured as I began to pump my finger in and out, the same rhythm I was using with my mouth on his cock. “Before I come in your mouth.”

“I don’t mind,” I gasped, taking him out of my mouth only long enough to say the words.

“I do.” He pulled me off again, biting his lip as I slowly slid my finger out of his ass. “Come here.”

He settled me on top of him, his cock rising toward my navel, making an exclamation point between us. His hands roamed easily over my body, belly, breasts, hips, thighs, as if he could discover my flesh like a blind man reads Braille. I reached down to press the wet head of his cock against my belly, rubbing it gently in circles with my palm, seeing his eyes half-close at the sensation.

“I want to be inside of you.”

He didn’t need to ask me twice.

I went up to my knees, squeezing his cock as I aimed it, his gaze focused between my legs as I slid down his length. He parted my wet flesh easily, his hands moving to my hips, guiding me, in control, even with me on top of him. I slid my palms along his chest, letting the dark hair there curl around my fingers, teasing his nipples, grazing them lightly with my fingernails.

“You’re naughty,” he murmured as I rocked, a nice, slow ride. My nipples were so hard they ached, and he thumbed them, making me moan in response.

“Here,” I said, guiding his hand down to my pussy, whimpering when his fingers found my clit. “Yes. Oh god yes, like that.”

I felt his cock swell inside of me as I began to rock faster, matching his rhythm against my clit. Our breath came faster, our bodies starting to sheen with sweat. Sex in the light of day gave us both a new perspective, and I found myself looking into his eyes as we fucked, seeing far too much emotion there and wondering if he saw the same in mine.

“Fuck me from behind,” I said, loathe to take him out of me, but not knowing if I could stand seeing the hungry look in his eyes anymore.

“Like a dog?” He chuckled as I got to my hands and knees on the bed, offering my ass up for the taking.

“Yes.” I closed my eyes, feeling his hands on my hips, his cock already seeking entrance. “Fuck me like a dog.”

I meant it, and I think he knew it. He shoved deep into me, the angle tighter now, better for us both. I reached under and rubbed my clit as he fucked me, the sound of us filling the room, two animals in heat, rutting together.

“Harder!” I hissed. “Deeper!”

He thrust again, again, grunting with the effort, giving me what I wanted, and I loved him for it. I was going to come like this with his cock buried so deep I could almost taste it, my pussy stretched with the glorious width of him.

“So tight,” he moaned, lost too, and I found him with my hand, feeling him driving into me, using the heel of my palm to rub myself off. “Oh god, I can’t… I can’t…”

“Come on!” I urged, lifting my ass higher to meet him. “Do it! Oh fuck! Fuck!”

And then we were coming together, quivering and trying to drown our cries so no one heard the sounds of our lust. My eager pussy convulsed around the pulsing length of his cock, milking him, draining him completely. Nico collapsed onto me, the hard, lean, sweaty length of his body so good against mine I thought I must be dreaming this, all of this.

I even asked him, “Am I dreaming?” as he rolled to the side and gathered me into his arms.

“If you are, then I’m dreaming too.”

I considered the possibility, touching the charm around my neck as we drifted in the hazy afternoon sunshine, wondering which would be better-dream or reality.

Dear Carrie and Doc,

Janie sounds like a handful! The pictures you sent of her in the outfit Cara Lucia made were so sweet it made my uterus skip a beat. She’s growing so fast!

Remember that guy I told you about, the gondolier, Nico? We’ve been seeing more of each other. A lot more of each other. I’m not ready to call it a relationship yet, although his mother and sisters have us practically married with two kids in their heads already. Mama Dorotea talks about wedding dress fabric every time I see her and shushes Nico when he insists her arthritis is too far gone for her to be sewing. Never mind that she’s talking about sewing a wedding dress for a nonexistent wedding!

But in spite of all the mama’s boy stuff-why do I pick men who can’t cut the apron strings? — can I just say, in all honestly, I haven’t had sex like this in so long. He reminds me a little of you, Doc-so insatiable. And Carrie, you’d like him. Oh what fun we could have with Nico, you and I! That is, if Doc didn’t get too jealous. I know how he gets about sharing you, even if you’re okay with things the other way around. The more I watch people and the relationships around me, the more I realize how special you two really are. You’re in your own category altogether as far as I’m concerned. I don’t think many people get to experience what we did together. And yes, I miss it, and I miss you.

Maybe it’s because I deprived myself for so long, I don’t know, but I can’t get enough of Nico. And he… oh my god, he is a greedy boy. My little room at Cara Lucia’s has paper-thin walls and while we can sneak up to his attic room at his mother’s, I feel funny about it, and it’s clear she doesn’t approve. So we find ourselves looking for alternatives and I’m beginning to think we need to get our own place just so we don’t get arrested!

“Not here,” I whispered as Nico kissed me into a narrow alleyway, the cool brick biting my back, pressed hard against the wall.

“Yes here,” he insisted, and I cursed myself for wearing a skirt to school. March was flirting with April and the weather had been sunny and bordering on warm all day, prompting my choice of outfit.

“No, no,” I protested, but telling him no was impossible. He took what he wanted, when he wanted. I couldn’t deny him, and even as my mind forbid him, my body responded, my hips thrusting to meet the hard press of his cock through his trousers, my mouth opening under his.

“I can’t wait,” he murmured, his hand cupping my mound through my skirt. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. My cock has been hard for hours.”

“We could get caught,” I whispered, eyes closed with pleasure as he rocked the heel of his palm against my pussy. It was still daylight and anyone passing by the alleyway could see us. “Arrested. What would your mother say?”

“I don’t care,” he growled, yanking my skirt up to my waist, exposing the black flash of my panties underneath.

“Nico!” I gasped when he went to his knees, unmindful of the suit he was wearing, burying his face between my legs.

The truth was, I was already soaking wet-I’d been thinking about him all day too, about our date and where we would go to ease this ache. I had to sneak him into my flat past Cara Lucia. His mother guarded his place like Fort Knox. We had found places of course, the darkness our accomplice. We had christened the restroom at the Mood Cafe twice, once in the men’s room, the second time in the women’s. We’d made love in the gondola in the dark several times, tied to a post, nearly tipping it over once in a narrow canal with our fervor. We’d even done it like this, in dark alleys, cul-de-sacs, entryways to empty buildings.