Selena Kitt - Babysitting the Baumgartners

“Ohhhh now,” I moaned, closing my eyes, my whole body shuddering with hot, delicious spasms of pleasure. I felt the first spurt of his cum before I saw it, like fire across my belly. I gasped and moaned, looking down at the thick white rope of cum, like an arrow pointing its way toward my throbbing pussy.

I watched, still quivering, as he groaned and pumped his cock through his fist, shooting more hot fluid over my trembling belly. When he was spent, he leaned his hand against the wall, panting, resting his forehead on his arm.

“That felt so good,” I murmured, and he smiled when he looked at me, nodding. His eyes were still glazed and I wondered if I looked like that, too.

We both jumped at the sound of the door downstairs and Mrs. B’s voice calling up, “Doc?”

“Fuck,” he swore, hauling his jeans up and I heard Janie and Henry down there too, arguing about something.

He looked back at me from the doorway. “You really are beautiful.”

I sighed when he shut the door, looking down at the pool of cum accumulating in my navel. Smiling, I dipped a finger into it, bringing it to my mouth. It was a sharp taste, a little acrid, but I sucked it off my finger anyway, remembering how he looked as he came all over my tummy.

“Veronica, can I get your opinion about something?” Mrs. B poked her head around the door to find me curled up on my bed.

“Sure.” I put down my book. “What’s up?”

They were getting ready to go out, and Henry and Janie were already asleep. They’d obviously worn themselves out playing with the Holmes’ kids. Henry actually nodded off over his spaghetti, and Doc kept taking bets on whether or not his nose would end up in it. I won-I said he wouldn’t end up with his face in the plate-although a couple times, I thought for sure he was a goner. Doc paid up, though-five bucks.

“I need a girl’s eye.” Mrs. B motioned for me to follow her. “Doc’s no help with these things.”

I trailed after her into their room, a little hesitant, not knowing if Doc was up here. I heard the TV on downstairs, though, and I thought he was probably down there. Mrs. B had two dresses hung over the door and she was wearing a third, a long, brown, satin halter dress. She turned to take the other two dresses down and tossed them next to me on the bed.

“Ok, there’s this one.” She went over to the mirror and turned, first left, then right. “What do you think?”

I shrugged. “It seems a little formal. What kind of party is this?”

“This dress is a Nicole Miller,” she added, as if that might mean something to me. I found myself much more interested in who was in the dress than who’d designed it. “Oh, it’s a fancy kind of party. All the men in suits sort of thing.”

I watched her turn in the dress, the lush brown satin moving over her hips like it was part of her. She smoothed it like liquid over her belly and reached up to lift her breasts. Her hands on them gave me a start, even through the material, and I couldn’t help but remember her cupping and tweaking them, her hair falling back and brushing Doc’s chest as she rocked against his mouth. Her hands took the weight of them, lifting and pushing them together in the fabric as I watched, feeling that slow heat spreading through me.

She winked at me in the mirror. “Gonna need the push-up bra, no matter what we decide.”

“It’s beautiful.” I reached out to finger the material as she came to stand beside me to look at the other dresses. There was a long slit up the side and my fingers touched the softness of her thigh as I rubbed the satin. She gave me a warm smile, her eyes seeming to know something, and my breath caught and my belly clenched.

“Let’s try this one.” She pulled out a black silk dress, another halter with velvet trim. I watched as she untied the brown satin halter behind her neck, sliding the dress down her hips. Her breasts swayed as she stepped out of it, and the dress pulled her black panties down a little. She adjusted them, her fingers snapping the elastic, before she stepped into the black dress, pulling it up tight and holding the ties around her neck.

“What about this one?” She turned again so I could see. It shimmered on her body like it was made of liquid. “It’s a Vera Wang.”

“I love it,” I replied, not caring at all who Vera Wang was as I saw this one slit up to mid-thigh on both sides as she walked. “It really shows off your tan.”

She smiled, dropping the halter and coming toward me topless, working the dress down her hips. Her brown nipples were stiff, probably from cold, but she was so close I could see the skin pursed around them. I couldn’t help but remember Doc’s hands on them, her own hands on them, and then I found myself imagining my hands on them. What would they feel like, the weight of them, cupped in my palms? I looked down at the carpet, feeling a little breathless.

Mrs. B tossed the black silk onto the bed. “See, if I had tan lines, none of these dresses would work very well, would they?”

“Good point,” I agreed as she lifted the last dress, a raspberry red chiffon slip dress with spaghetti straps. This one went on like a second skin. The bodice was crossed and pleated, making her breasts appear even larger, and the plunging neckline gave a good view of the swell of her cleavage.

“Zip me?” She backed up until she was pressed between my thighs. I was wearing shorts and I couldn’t tell which was softer, the material rubbing against my legs or her skin. I grasped the little zipper and it went up like I was sealing her in.

“This one?” She twirled a little, the chiffon skirt showing a generous amount of her long, brown legs when she did. “It’s a Susana Monaco. Oh, but wait!” Mrs. B moved the black and brown pile of satin and silk and pulled out a long chiffon scarf, the same color as the dress. She wrapped it once around her neck, letting the ends hang down to her hips in front and back.

“Ohhh,” I breathed, fascinated by the way little stray blonde hairs curled at the nape of her neck and around her face with her hair up, how the scarf just drew more attention to it. “That’s the one. Perfect.”

She smiled, looking pleased, and turned back to the mirror. “That’s what I thought, but it’s good to get another woman’s opinion.”

I didn’t know why, but Mrs. B calling me a woman made me feel warm and tingly. She dug through the closet and found a pair of strappy shoes with incredibly high stiletto heels. They looked scary-high to me. She put each foot up on the vanity table chair to do the straps, the muscles in her slim calves flexing, and then walked around in them like a pro.

“Now I just have to find a bra.” She went over and rummaged through her drawers. “Ah, here we are.” She held a black one up. “Here, can you unzip me, Veronica?”

I watched as the smooth, tawny skin of her back was revealed when the zipper parted. I brushed my fingers over her spine as I unzipped her, trying to make it seem accidental. I just had to touch her. When I had it all the way down, I saw the lace top of her black panties and the two dimples just above them. She lifted her breasts into the bra cups and reached around to do the hooks. Her fingernails were their usual red and almost matched the dress.

“There.” She adjusted. “Zipper?”

I closed it back up, feeling the slight resistance as the material stretched around her flesh. When she turned around, I gasped. The bra pressed her breasts up high-firm golden orbs nestled together in the red pleated fabric.

She laughed and exclaimed, “I know! Thank you, Victoria’s Secret!”

“Carrie?” Doc called up the stairs. “Almost?”

“Almost!” She grabbed the hangers for the other two dresses and started to put them back.