Selena Kitt: The Baumgartners Plus One

“Oh shut up.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “You want Demi Moore and you know it. Besides, the pottery scene is hot.”

“I wouldn’t say no if she wanted to eat crackers in my bed.” Doc cocked his head at me, refilling my margarita. “You look a little like her. Longer hair, of course.”

I smiled, sipping my drink. “I actually get that a lot.”

We settled on the couch. I expected Carrie to cuddle with Doc, but instead she insisted I sit between them. I thought it would be strange, that I would feel out of place, but things fit so well, as if we were puzzle pieces finding their niche. Doc poked fun at the movie and Carrie teased him and I couldn’t get over how easy and comfortable it felt. It could have been the alcohol loosening me up but I was sure that wasn’t all of it.

Doc slipped an arm around my shoulder and I didn’t protest. Carrie leaned her head against me and rubbed her cheek absently against Doc’s hand while we watched.

Doc kept refilling our margaritas-I lost count of how many times he went back out to the kitchen to refill the blender with ice-and that feeling of being warm and comfortable turned into sleepiness after a while.

I made it through the pottery scene-which was decidedly hot and made me squirm, feeling Carrie’s bare thigh against mine, and Doc’s jean-clad one rubbing against the other-but I dozed off at some point after Whoopi Goldberg tried to convince Demi Moore that Patrick Swayze was trying to communicate with her from the other side. When I woke, Carrie was covering me with a blanket, the TV was off and the room was dark.

“I have to go home,” I murmured, trying to sit. Bad idea. The room spun. Way too many margaritas for me.

“Shhh.” She tucked the blanket under my chin. “You sleep. I’m going to show Doc our little… surprise.”

It took my foggy brain a few moments to realize what she was talking about, but by then she was gone to her room. My thoughts lingered on her, reliving the silky slickness of her pussy against my fingers as I shaved her. He was definitely going to be surprised, I thought, and found myself feeling jealous. Then I recalled her words, “ our little surprise.” Somehow she had included me in it and that was gratifying. I let the alcohol win again and slept.

* * * *

Something woke me. I’d been sleeping hard, drooling on the edge of the couch cushion, my arm dangling off the edge, dreaming about Patrick Swayze making margaritas, and something pulled me suddenly from sleep. I had no idea what it was-I couldn’t hear anything but the rain, still falling, and the ticking of a clock somewhere- and then I didn’t care. I was suddenly desperate to pee. All those damned margaritas. I pulled myself to standing, using the back of the couch to steady myself in the unfamiliar darkness. My head was still spinning. I hardly ever drank anymore, even wine.

It was nearly dark, but there was a night light in the kitchen next to the sink and I followed its glow, shuffling along the carpet in my bare feet. The last thing I wanted to do was trip and wake the Baumgartners. It wasn’t until I’d made my way through the kitchen and saw the bedroom door, slightly ajar, that I remembered the way to the bathroom was through their room.

Then I heard an unmistakable moan and knew what had woken me. They were having sex. What I’d mistaken for a ticking clock was the rhythmic tap of a headboard hitting the wall.

“Oh god, that’s fucking fantastic!” Carrie gasped. “I’m going to come again!”

I heard him grunt, the springs squeaking louder, faster, the headboard slapping the wall with greater force. She gave three short, sharp cries, the same sound I’d heard her make that afternoon watching from the window, and I felt my whole body bloom with warmth. I leaned against the door frame for support, not sure I could trust my legs to keep me up.

“I love your shaved little pussy,” he growled. The squeaking had stopped.

“Gimme!”

“No, no, no!” she cried. There was a flurry and shuffle and she objected the whole while but then I heard her moan softly. “Oh god, Doc, I can’t, not again…”

“Mmmm yes you can,” he assured her, his words muffled. I was sure his mouth was full. I felt so faint I thought I might actually pass out. “God, that’s so fucking hot. So smooth.”

“I know.” She sounded both smug and proud. “She shaved me so nice.”

“She sure did.” More muffled words from Doc.

“Oh baby, your tongue!”

I’d obviously guessed correctly.

“So tell me about your shower.” Doc’s voice was low. “Did you enjoy it?”

“You’re bad.” She teased him. “Does it turn you on, thinking about the two of us wet and naked?”

“You know it does.” His grin was so big I could hear it in his voice. “Tell me.”

“She’s so pretty, Doc,” she murmured dreamily. “Her breasts are big like mine, but she’s got these puffy nipples, so sexy.”

He groaned. “What color?”

“Brown, almost as dark as mine,” she murmured. I couldn’t believe the details she was relaying, how much she had noticed about me. That confirmed she’d been looking too, maybe as much as I had. I cupped my breast in my hand, closing my eyes, imagining the weight of hers, seeing the fat pursed jut of her nipples in my mind. I thumbed my own nipple through my shirt and shivered. “And her pussy, oh god, she’s shaved so smooth. I wanted to touch it…and kiss it.”

Me, too, I thought, and squeezed my legs together, feeling the heightened pulse between them. I’d been imagining little else for a week, and knowing now that she’d been thinking about it too made me so hungry for her, my mouth actually started to water.

“More,” Doc insisted, his breath coming fast. “Tell me more.”

“I want your cock first.” She made a little sound, denying him. “No, no, not there-in my mouth.”

He hesitated. “Then you can’t tell me.”

“My hand then,” she conceded and I heard them rearranging on the bed. I wished I could see but the room was dark. Maybe if I pushed the door open a little further? I chanced it, praying it didn’t squeak, opening it just another inch.

“Oh god. Easy.” Doc gasped. “I haven’t come yet.”

“You’re going to,” she purred.

“Not yet,” he pleaded. I could see their outlines, ghosts and shadows. She was on top of him, her hand wrapped around his cock, her pussy poised over his face.

“Did she touch you?” He urged her on.

“She had to,” Carrie replied with a little snort of laughter. “She shaved my pussy, remember?”

“No, I mean, did she touch you.”

“I think so.” She sounded thoughtful and the motion of her hand slowed. “She brushed my clit more than once and I don’t think it was all by accident.”

They were quiet for a moment and I strained to hear, wishing I had Jezebel’s ability to see perfectly well in the dark. I wanted to see his cock. I wanted to watch her stroke him. I really wanted to see her arched above him, moving her hips against his tongue. What I really wanted was to be sandwiched somewhere in the midst of all that sweaty, wanton flesh. My pussy felt swollen, hot.

“Why didn’t you take her to bed with you?” Doc asked. “Didn’t you want to?”

“Oh god yes…” Her reply was breathy, dreamy. “It just feels so funny, without you…”

He snorted. “You have my permission.”

“I know.”

They stopped talking, concentrating on other things. There was just the sound of their breath and their bodies rocking, rubbing, licking. Oh god, I was so wet. I had to touch myself. I had to.

“Do it,” Doc insisted, and at first I thought he was talking to me. I froze, breath caught, eyes wide, my hand sneaking under the waistband of my shorts. Then I realized he was talking to her.