Selena Kitt - Meet the Baumgartners

Carrie loved the taste of Maureen’s pussy-it made her even more excited, feeling flesh against her tongue, tasting the sweet juices as they ran down her chin.

Carrie grabbed Maureen’s hips, pulling her against her mouth, licking and sucking, wild and unrestrained. Maureen’s tongue flicked faster and faster and Carrie made low, guttural sounds in her throat, spurring her friend on as Maureen licked her little, swollen spot too, back and forth, again and again.

Maureen was making plenty of noise now, and Carrie loved her sounds and how her thighs tightened and her hips rocked while she used her tongue for Maureen’s pleasure. Carrie found herself fast approaching orgasm. It wasn’t a sweet, slow spiral upward anymore, now she was flying, racing headlong toward that profound release.

Maureen’s tongue and mouth were a soft, wet, glorious push. Carrie moaned and twisted underneath her, wrapping her arms around Maureen’s hips, feeling her mash 15

her hot, pink cunt against Carrie’s face, tongue buried in the folds of her flesh until she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care.

It started like a small earthquake, rumbling through Carrie’s pelvis and shuddering her hips as she bucked and arched. Maureen was making little noises, knowing the sound and feel of Carrie at her pinnacle, licking faster than ever.

Carrie gasped and moaned and forgot about her friend spread over her face for a moment, lost completely in her own pleasure.

“Oh, god, Mo,” Carrie whispered, Maureen’s fingers moving there still, sending jolts through her, and she put her whole mouth over Maureen’s pussy, rolling with her until she was on her back. She gasped and wiggled, her breath fast and hips gyrating as Carrie licked and licked and licked. Maureen’s hands gripped her bottom, her nails digging into flesh, but she didn’t care. Carrie could hear her making that “ah, ahh” noise she made when she was close.

“Oh yes, yes!” Maureen cried, gripping Carrie’s hips and arching her back. She quivered, her belly convulsing, undulating, the little bud of flesh under Carrie’s tongue pulsing with her pleasure. Carrie didn’t stop, still teasing her relentlessly with her mouth.

Maureen was quick to orgasm again, her nails digging into Carrie’s sleek, tanned thighs this time, but she was also quick to recover, insatiable, always wanting more.

Carrie moved slower, her journey toward another climax building and then receding, the world tilting in sway at the moment she reached her summit, her hips jerking and thrashing so hard Maureen had to grab them to hold her still, her mouth fixed tightly over Carrie’s trembling cunt.

It was like a dance, the two of them moving together, back and forth, their bodies becoming slick with sweat and each other’s juices and saliva, neither of them paying any attention to the sounds of girls running up and down hall, the music coming from the dorm room next door. They were lost in each other, tongues and mouths and fingers and breath, dizzying pleasure cresting again and again, until finally, they were both breathless, cheeks pressed to thighs, faces wet and eyes closed, like two naughty nursing kittens finally sated.

They’d been doing this together for three years, and no one suspected. Not even Maureen’s overly-protective boyfriend, James, the some-day minister. Of course, it helped that he went to another school several miles away and wasn’t on their campus all the time. It made this easier. It made a lot of things easier for Maureen-including things like going to frat parties.

“Mo?” Carrie’s fingernails gently stroked her friend’s long legs, making her shiver.

“Hmm?” Maureen’s reply was small, dreamy, faraway.

“I’m coming with you to the frat party tonight.”

Maureen’s head shot up. “But finals-”

“Fuck finals.” Carrie grinned as her friend sat up, turning quickly around to face her.

“Who are you and what have you done with my roommate?” Maureen grinned, too, her eyes shining.

“The Ice Queen?” Carrie shrugged, trying hard to look nonchalant. “She’s dead.”

* * * *

The Ice Queen might be dead, but I’m freezing, Carrie thought, looking at the five completely mismatched cards in her hand. She glanced over at Maureen, who was still wearing everything but her damned socks, while Carrie shivered next to her in just a bra and panties.

“Okay, pony up. Whatcha got?” Mark-the red-headed guy from the breakfast line that morning-grinned at her from across the table. Steve Baumgartner-“Call me Doc, everybody does”-was next to him, a lazy half-smile on his face. He had played almost as poorly as she had and was down to a pair of boxers and his socks.

“Two pair,” Maureen declared, slapping her hand down. Mark raised his eyebrows and his beer, taking a long swig. “Funny, I only see one pair.”

“Oh, I see two,” Steve countered, glancing across at Carrie, her cleavage prominent even in a plain white cotton bra. She felt very exposed, just between the four of them at the table, but there were people all around them, talking, drinking, dancing, making out in corners or draped over couches, and she knew some of them were watching too.

“Ha!” Mark splayed his hand dramatically. “Three-of-a-kind! Read ‘em and weep!”

“What about you?” Steve looked at Carrie and she sighed, putting down her cards.

“Nothing.” That’s what she’d been dealt all night-a whole lot of nothing-and it was getting her further and further into trouble. Strip Truth or Dare was proving to be a dangerous game.

Steve put his cards on the table slowly and Mark groaned when he looked over at them. “Flush-in spades.”

Damnit. Carrie squirmed in her seat, taking a full swig of beer. She hated the taste of the stuff, but she needed the liquid courage, because she knew what happened next.

“Okay, everybody strip something.” Mark came up with a sock. Maureen reached up and pulled out her ponytail.

“No fair! “Carrie protested as she reached awkwardly behind her own back to unclasp her bra. “Mo, will you help?”

“Yeah, Mo, give the girl a hand,” Steve encouraged, beaming as he watched the dark-haired girl undo her friend’s bra.

“I can’t do this,” Carrie murmured so only Maureen could hear. Her friend leaned in and whispered two galvanizing words, “Ice Queen.”

That brought Carrie up to her feet like a shot and she slid her bra straps down her arms, letting her breasts fall free, a heavy shift. Mark hooted but Steve just smiled.

When his gaze moved up from her chest to meet her eyes, she flushed with heat, but she thought she might burst into flame when the whole crowd began hooting and catcalling at her newly undressed state.

She quickly sat, crossing her arms to cover herself.

Steve leveled his gaze at her, his eyes moving down to her cleavage, even more pronounced now that she was pressing her breasts together. “Truth or Dare?”

“Who?” Maureen asked, smirking. It was a stupid question. Every question he’d asked that night had been leveled at Carrie.

“Carrie?” Steve’s eyes were bright with excitement.

She sighed. “Truth, I guess.”

“What were you doing in the men’s bathroom last night?”

She gasped, her eyes widening, and then yelped, “Dare! I mean Dare!’

“All right.” He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, looking contemplative. “Kiss Maureen.”

Carrie visibly relaxed, turning to her friend. Maureen smiled, leaning in to whisper, “Make it a show. I think he really likes it.”

That thought, for some reason, made Carrie squirm in her chair.

Maureen’s fingers played in her hair and she moved in slow, her lips barely brushing at first, then her tongue moved in, lightly licking, seeking entrance. Carrie moaned softly, forgetting herself, her arms slipping around Maureen’s neck, leaving her breasts fully exposed. The women pressed against each other, their tongues and limbs entangled, and Carrie gasped when Maureen’s hands moved to cup her breasts.