Crazy About the Baumgartners (17 page)

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Authors: Selena Kitt

Tags: #Gay & Lesbian, #Literature & Fiction, #Fiction, #Lesbian, #Genre Fiction, #Coming of Age

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BONUS
EXCERPT

BLUEBEARD’S
WIFE

By Selena Kitt

Tara’s
husband has never shared a fantasy with her, or even masturbated—that she
knows of. However, this curious wife discovers a phone bill full of phone calls
to sex lines and realizes her husband has been living a double life! Instead of
getting mad, Tara’s curiosity leads her to begin listening in on John’s steamy
conversations in hopes of finding out what he really wants in the bedroom.
After several failed attempts at bringing fantasy to reality, however, a
frustrated Tara turns to her much more adventurous best friend, Kelly, for
help. A quick psychology 101 diagnosis from Dr. Kelly marks John as having a
classic “madonna/whore” complex, and she quickly sets about making plans to
rectify this situation. Tara goes along for the ride, hoping that Kelly may
have the answer to bridging the seemingly ever-growing gap in her marriage…

Warning:
This title contains a MFF threesome, a daddy/daughter role play between consenting
adults, strong language, minor drug use and lesbian and anal sex
.

What
people are saying about Bluebeard’s Wife:

Mmmm....excellent
storytelling!

Holy
Mackerel! You are SO good at this. There’s something highly erotic about a
married couple pushing their sexual envelope and you have captured it
perfectly.

Beautifully
Nuanced

Just
gorgeous—incredibly erotic, but also a beautiful exploration of a woman’s
sexuality. Keep up the great work.

EXCERPT from
BLUEBEARD’S WIFE
:

We
ended up closing the place down, John and I. Kelly and Chris headed home about
midnight, and I sat and finished another bottle of wine while I watched John
move among the tables, talking and laughing. He helped me on with my coat when
it was time to go, and held my elbow as we walked to the car.

“Are
you drunk?” he asked me as he got into driver’s side.

I
looked over at him in the dimness. “Are you mad?

“Am
I mad that you’re drunk? Or am I mad that you were out dirty dancing with your
girlfriend at my company Christmas party?” John started the car and put it in
reverse.

“Um…
that, or… whatever,” I said, struggling with my seat belt. I couldn’t seem to
find the slot to put it into. John accelerated hard and I was propelled back
against the seat. I was still trying to get my seat belt fastened when John hit
the brakes at a stop sign and I jolted forward, reaching out my hand to the
dashboard to catch myself, but my reflexes were slow, and I missed.

“What
were you thinking?” John asked with a sigh, reaching over and doing my seat
belt up for me.

I
felt tears sting my eyes and looked out the passenger window so he wouldn’t see
them. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I guess maybe that you might think I was
sexy.”

We
didn’t talk again until John backed the car into the garage. He always backed
in, so he could pull put in a hurry in the morning. Then he turned to me in the
dark of the car, his voice low. “Tara, do you know what I wanted to do to you
when you came downstairs in that dress?”

I
shook my head, turning a little toward him.

John
reached a hand out and fingered the soft, satin hem that was riding high on my
thighs. “I wanted to tear it off you.”

“You
did?” I asked, my eyes wide. He was looking down at where my dress ended.

“I
wanted to tear it off you and take you, right there, up against the wall in the
hallway.” His voice was hoarse, and I swallowed hard.

“You
did?” I squeaked.

“Seeing
you dancing out there with Kelly—you don’t know how sexy you are, do
you?” he asked, leaning over to me, his hand running up from my knee to my thigh.
His breath was warm on my face, and I could smell the 7&7’s he’d been
drinking all night. My own head was still swimming with wine.

“You
two rubbing up against each other, seeing your red little dress riding up and
up,” he whispered, his hand pushing my dress up further as he sought higher
ground on my leg. “You looked just like you do when you come, with your eyes
half closed and your mouth open and your legs quivering.”

I
moaned, tilting my face up to him, and then he was kissing me, his tongue forcing
its way past my teeth, down my throat, as he pressed me into the door. “I
wanted to fuck you right there on the dance floor,” he growled against my neck,
biting and sucking at my flesh. “I wanted to fuck you both.”

I
gasped, his hands groping me in the dark, everywhere at once. My dress was
pushed up to my waist now, his fingers rubbing fast and hard between my legs.
We kissed, our mouths meshing together as he leaned over the gearshift to get
to me. When he pulled my panties aside and plunged his fingers into me, I
hissed, putting one foot up onto the dashboard to give him better access.

He
was trying to climb over onto me but there wasn’t enough room—not in his
little Roadster. When I whispered that fact to him, he grunted, pulling his
hand away from me and moving to open his door. A moment later, he was opening
mine, and I was still sitting there with my panties askew, my heels off, and my
dress shoved up to my waist, struggling with the seatbelt.

He
leaned over me and popped the button, pulling me out of the car and crushing me
to him, his tongue digging deep into my mouth. I clung to him, wrapping my arms
around his neck, feeling his hands roaming over my ass, squeezing and lifting
me, pressing my crotch to his. I could feel how hard he was through his
trousers.

Then
he was turning me around, pressing me over the hood of the car, shoving my
dress up higher on my waist. His hands moved over my ass, my thighs, and I
heard his zipper and the felt his cock pressing against my panties. He shoved
those aside, his fingers finding me again, moving in and out of my
wetness—and I was wet, soaking wet, my panties moist with my heat.

He
didn’t bother to take them off, he just replaced his fingers with his cock, shoving
himself deep inside me with a growl. I moaned, pressing my cheek to the metal,
the engine still ticking as he started to fuck me, my hands out in front of me,
just letting him take me. I could see the Christmas lights of the neighbor’s
house across the street, a blurred red and green glow as he rocked me against
the Beemer’s electric blue hood. He hadn’t even shut the garage door.

“You
like that?” he whispered, grinding his pelvis into me, his cock buried so deep
it almost hurt. I couldn’t catch my breath to answer, I just whimpered, but I
arched my back and pressed against him in response.

He
reached over me, grabbing my arms and twisting them behind my back. I gasped,
wriggling and moaning, as he held my wrists with one hand, still fucking me, harder
now, driving me against the cold side panel of the car. He slapped my ass with
the other hand, making me squirm. The hot sting felt good in the night air.

I
could see my breath, panting out in white streams toward Mr. Klein’s house
across the way—and I could see Mr. Klein, walking across his living room.
I wondered if he might be able to see us, and the thought was beyond exciting.

John
was grunting with every thrust, his breath ragged. My panties were snug between
my legs and every time he shoved into me, he pulled them up tight between my
lips and effectively massaged my clit, the friction building up as he fucked
me, really rapidly now, all the way into me, working hard.

“Oh
God,” I cried, feeling his hand tighten around my wrists, pulling me back against
him and driving deeper, deeper still, into my pussy. “John, make me come!”

I
could still see Mr. Klein, and I think he was at his window, but I didn’t care.
I ground myself back against John’s cock, wanting more and more, until I
couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. I was dizzy with wanting, feeling the ache
between my legs moving toward release.

John
grabbed my hip with his other hand, forcing himself hard up into me, growling
and grinding, “Ahhhh God, baby, take my cum!” Feeling the first wave of him,
hot and pulsing, coupled with his hips pounding against mine, forced me over,
too, and I came hard, my pussy squeezing him, milking him.

“Ohhh
yes, ohhhh!” I moaned, thrashing on the hood of the car, quivering beneath him.

He
pulled out of me, and the cold of the night rushed in, making me shiver. He
didn’t let go of my wrists, turning me around to kiss me, his mouth a little
softer now, but not much, his tongue still probing deep, his bare thighs
pressing me back against the car, my ass resting against the cool edge.

“Now,”
he whispered, keeping me pressed against him, his hand still tight around my
wrists wrapped behind my back. “Do you believe me, that I think you’re sexy?”

I
smiled, feeling dizzy, wrapping my leg around him, digging my heel into the
back of his thigh. “Yes,” I breathed, kissing him and holding on tight…

SELENA
KITT’S OTHER WORKS

NOVELS

A Baumgartner Reunion

Babysitting the Baumgartners

Baumgartner Generations: Henry

Baumgartner Generations: Janie

Letters to the Baumgartners