Babysitting the Baumgartners Ch. 02bySelena_Kitt©
When I came back in the house, Henry and Janie were fighting over the X-Box controller, remains of lunch (peanut butter and jelly, looked like) still smeared on their faces. The air conditioning was on, and it was very cool compared to outside—I actually got goosebumps within minutes of walking in the door.
"Where's your mom and dad?" I asked.
Janie looked up at me, and Henry took the opportunity to yank the controller from her. "Hey!" she said. "They're upstairs taking a nap. They told us to stay here until you got back in the house."
Henry had started the game, and while Janie was pouting, she was also relenting, getting involved in whatever was happening on the screen.
"Well, what do you guys want to do?" I asked. No answer. Just blank stares at the television. "Ok, looks like X-Box wins. I'm going to go take a shower, ok?"
The both nodded, their mouths partly open as they stared at the screen. Little video game zombies. At eight and nine, they were pretty self-sufficient. I didn't understand why Mrs. Baumgartner had such a hard time with them, really. To me, they seemed like easy kids.
I climbed the stairs and went down the hall toward the bathroom. They had a large Jacuzzi tub (which I was dying to soak in one night!) and a separate shower. I turned on the water, adjusting the temperature, and peeled off my suit, tossing it into the sink. It felt good to soap up and wash the oil and salt water off my body.
I stood under the needling spray for a long time. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mr. Baumgartner's hand moving, lightning fast, up and down the length of his cock. It gave me a tight, funny feeling in my belly. That throbbing between my legs hadn't quit.
When I slipped the soap between my thighs, rubbing it over the soft, curly hair there, I remembered what Mrs. B said about waxing and flushed. I didn't have that much hair to begin with, just a sparse, dark triangular patch. What would it feel like to be completely smooth there?
I slipped my fingers past my swollen lips, remembering how soft and slick Mrs. B's oiled-up thigh was against mine, how dark and hard her nipples were. My clit was aching at the thought and I touched it, rubbing it slowly under my fingers.
The image that kept coming back to me, though, was Mr. Baumgartner and his cock and his eyes locked on mine as he came. It made me feel embarrassed and excited to think that seeing me and his wife lying together on the beach topless was enough to get him aroused—to get him off. Was he imagining something, or just watching us, or both?
I knew I shouldn't be thinking about it, but I couldn't help it. The more I thought about it, the faster my fingers moved over my clit. Leaning back against the tiles, I rubbed it and rubbed it, the water making my nipples tingle. The images of the afternoon flashed through my mind—Mrs. B's fingers pulling my bikini aside to look at my pubic hair, the swell and shift of her heavy breasts, the way the oil and water pooled on her tanned skin, the way her eyes lingered on my chest and belly and thighs.
Moaning softly, I slipped one finger inside my pussy, rocking against my hand and feeling a low hum building in my lower belly. That steady throb between my legs that had begun outside in the sun was like a fast, heavy drumbeat now keeping fast time with my pounding heart. Was he really watching us that whole time? Could he hear us? How long had he been sitting there, stroking himself?
The sight of his cock, bursting like a spewing geyser over his fist, the pleasure on his face, the way his eyes met mine—oh god, I couldn't stand it. I shuddered and moaned and arched against the tiles as I came, remembering his dark eyes, his pumping hand, his bucking hips and spurting cock.
Flushed from my orgasm and the heat of the shower, I knelt in the tub, turning off the water. I rested my hot cheek against the cool tile for a moment, closing my eyes and feeling the waves of pleasure slowly receding. I felt shy and embarrassed to see him, now, wondering what I would say, what he might say.
When my legs felt steady enough to hold me, I got out of the shower and dried off, wrapping myself in one of the big white bath sheets. My room was across the hall from the bathroom, and the Baumgartner's was the next room over. The kids' rooms were at the other end of the hallway.
As I made my way across the hall, I heard Mrs. B's voice from behind their door: "You want that tight little nineteen-year-old pussy, Doc?"
I stopped, my heart leaping, my breath caught. Oh my god. Were they talking about me? He said something, but it was low, and I couldn't quite make it out. Then she said: "Just wait until I wax it for you. It'll be soft and smooth as a baby's."
Shocked, I reached down between my legs, cupping my pussy as if to protect it, standing there transfixed, listening. I stepped closer to their door, seeing that it wasn't completely closed, trying to hear what they were saying. There wasn't any noise, now.
"Oh god," I heard him groan. "Suck it harder."
My eyes wide, I could feel the pulse returning between my thighs, a slow, steady heat. Was she sucking his cock? I remembered what it looked like in his hand—even from a distance, I could tell that it was big, much bigger than any of the boys I'd ever been with.
"Ahhhh fuck, Carrie!" he moaned. I bit my lip, hearing Mrs. B's first name felt so wrong, somehow. "Take it all, baby!"
All?! My jaw dropped as I tried to imagine it, pressing my hand over my throbbing mound. Mrs. B said something, but I couldn't hear it, and as I leaned toward the door, I bumped it with the towel wrapped around my hair. My hand went to my mouth and I took an involuntary step back as the door edged open just a crack. I turned to go to my room, but I knew that they would hear my door.
"You want to fuck me, baby?" she purred. "God, I'm so wet... did you see her sweet little tits?"
"Fuck, yeah," he murmured. "I wanted to cum all over them."
Hearing his voice, I stepped back toward the door, peering through the crack. The bed was behind the door, at the opposite angle, but there was a large vanity table and mirror against the other wall, and I could see them reflected in it. Mrs. B was completely naked, kneeling over him. I could see her face, her breasts swinging as she took him into her mouth. His cock was standing straight up in the air.
"She's got beautiful tits, doesn't she?" Mrs. B asked, running her tongue up and down the shaft.
"Yeah," he whispered, his hand in her hair, pressing her down onto his cock. "I want to see her little pussy. God, she's so beautiful."
"Do you want to see me eat it?" she asked, moving up onto him, still stroking his cock. "Watch me lick that sweet, shaved cunt?"
I pressed a cool hand to my flushed cheek, but my other hand was rubbing the towel between my legs as I watched them. I had never heard anyone say that word out loud and it shocked and excited me.
"Oh god, yeah," he said, grabbing her tits as they swayed over him. I could see her riding him, and knew he must be inside of her. "I want inside that tight little cunt."
I moved the towel aside and slipped my fingers between my lips. He was talking about me! The thought made my whole body tingle, and my pussy was on fire. Already slick and wet from my orgasm in the shower, my fingers slid easily through my slit.
"I want to fuck her while she eats your pussy," he growled, thrusting up into her. His hands were gripping her hips and her breasts swayed as they rocked together.
My eyes widened at the image he conjured, but Mrs. B moaned, moving faster on top of him.
"Yeah, baby," she said, leaning over him, her breasts dangling in his face. His hands went to them, his mouth sucking at her nipples, making her squeal and slam down against him even harder. "You want her on her hands and knees, her tight little ass in the air?"
He groaned, and I rubbed my clit even faster as he grabbed her and practically threw her off of him onto the bed. She seemed to know what he wanted, because she got onto her hands and knees, and he was fucking her like that, from behind. The sound of them, flesh slapping against flesh, filled the room.
They were facing the mirror, but Mrs. B had her face buried in her arms, her ass lifted high in the air. Doc's eyes were looking down between their legs, like he was watching himself slide in and out of her.
"Fuck!" Mrs. B's voice was muffled. "Oh fuck, Doc, make me cum!"
He grunted and drove into her harder, and I watched her shudder and grab the covers with her fists. He didn't stop, though—his hands grabbed her hips and he worked himself into her over and over. I felt weak-kneed and full of heat, my fingers rubbing my aching clit in fast little circles. Mrs. B's orgasm had almost sent me right over the edge. I was very, very close.
"That tight nineteen-year-old cunt," he grunted, shoving into her. "I want to taste her." He slammed into her again. "Fuck her." And again. "Make her cum." And again. "Make her scream until she can't take anymore."
I leaned my forehead against the doorjamb for support, trying to control how fast my breath was coming, how fast my climax was coming, but I couldn't. I whimpered, watching him fuck her and knowing he was imagining me... me!
"Come here," he said, pulling out and Mrs. B was turning around like she knew what he wanted. "Swallow."
He was kneeling up on the bed as she pumped and sucked at his cock. I saw the first spurt land against her cheek, a thick white rope of cum, and then she covered the head with her mouth and swallowed, making soft mewing noises in her throat. I came then, too, shuddering and shivering against the doorframe, biting my lip to keep from crying out.
When I opened my eyes and came to my senses, Mrs. B was still on her hands and knees, focused between his legs—but Doc was looking right at me, his dark eyes on mine.
My hand flew to my mouth and I stumbled back, fumbling for the doorknob behind me that I knew was there. I finally found it, slipping into my room and shutting the door behind me. I leaned against it, my heart pounding, my pussy dripping, and wondered what I was going to do now.