Babysitting the Baumgartners Read online

  Frankly, I was starting to get whiny, myself, even after we took a distracting trip through the Disney Store for an hour or so. Mrs. B didn’t seem anywhere near ready to quit.

  It wasn’t until we stopped for lunch that we all got saved.

  “Oh my God, Maureen Holmes! Is that you?” Mrs. B stood up and I watched her kiss the air next to the cheek of a woman with short, stylish dark hair who had two children trailing behind her. They looked a little younger than Janie and Henry. There was also a girl about my age with a blonde ponytail holding their hands.

  Small world—they were acquaintances of the Baumgartners from back home, and Janie and Henry jumped at the chance to have playmates their own age again. The older women chatted, and me and the blonde—her name was Gretchen and she was the Holmes’ au pair, she told me—wrangled the kids.

  As Gretchen and I talked, I realized that she actually got paid for doing for the Holmes’ what I was doing for the Baumgartners for free. When it was time to go, all four of the kids had a meltdown, and we stood around with the eyes of restaurant patrons on us, wondering what to do.

  “Why don’t I take them all back to the house?” Gretchen suggested, smiling at Mrs. Holmes. “You can come pick them up later, Mrs. Baumgartner. I’m sure the kids would love to play together a while longer, and it would give you two a chance to catch up some more.”

  And just like that, the au pair saved the day. The two women looked at her like she was wearing tights and cape with a big “S” on the back.

  “Do you want to just go back to the house, Veronica?” Mrs. B asked me. “I’m sure Gretchen can handle the kids.”

  And that’s how I ended up with the whole afternoon to myself. I walked home, since it was only half a mile, enjoying the sunshine. I went for a swim when I got back, then took a shower and painted my toenails. I called my sister, Amy, and my best friend, Jenny, back home. Then I curled up with a book on my bed and fell asleep and didn’t wake up until someone came in downstairs.

  It was Doc. He called up to see if anyone was home, but I was still half-asleep and I didn’t answer. Really, it was just that I was still too flushed and embarrassed to reply. I’d been dreaming about Mrs. B lying on a towel on the beach. I was straddling her waist and pouring oil onto her breasts and rubbing it in. She was moaning and saying, “More on the nipples, Veronica. In circles.”

  I almost fell back asleep, still imagining what it would feel like to run my slick hands over Mrs. B’s heavy breasts, when I heard moaning from downstairs. For a moment, I was caught in that liminal space between sleep and consciousness and thought it must be my dream.

  Then I heard it again, a woman moaning, saying, “Fuck me! Harder! That’s it!”

  I sat up in bed, tilting my head and listening. Was Mrs. B home? Where were the kids? Remembering the other night, when I stood outside of the Baumgartners’ room and watched Doc and Mrs. B together, I crept quietly down the hallway. The moaning was louder, now, and I could also hear music.

  Then Doc’s voice, “Oooo yeah, baby.”

  I sat on the first step, my breath held, trying to puzzle out what I was hearing. I slid quietly down a step, and then one more, looking through the banister. From my vantage point, I saw the television, a huge widescreen, flat-panel that made the already formidable Shrek seem a life-size ten feet tall. Shrek wasn’t on it, though—rather, a dark-haired girl in pigtails bent over the arm of a big, comfy chair, was being fucked from behind by an older man with an enormous cock.

  And I had thought Doc’s was big...

  I made an immediate direct comparison, because Doc leaned back on the sofa, his jeans pushed down his hips. His cock was hard, and he gripped and pumped it while he watched what was happening on the screen.

  I stared, unable to look away as the girl put her leg up over the chair, giving the camera a better view. My exposure to porn had pretty much been limited to a few Internet pop-ups, so this was all new to me. I looked at the girl’s face—she looked young, probably my age, and she had a red lollipop she was sucking and licking on.

  Her pussy was shaved completely, I noticed, and it glistened as his cock slammed into her. I felt the throb of my own shaved pussy when I squeezed my legs together. Doc pumped a little faster now, his other hand reaching down and cupping his balls. I bit my lip, seeing his eyes half-closed, the look of pleasure on his face.

  My breath came faster as I unbuttoned my cut-offs, sliding the zipper down the teeth a notch at a time, afraid he might hear, even over the moaning and grunting on the television. As I watched, the cock which had been plunging into her slid out, pulsing and thick with her wetness. It was bigger than Doc’s but it reminded me of him, and my eyes flicked to his hand shuttling up and down the length.

  “Put that big dick in my little pussy, Mr. Smith!” The girls voice was high and breathy. She reached back and spread herself open, the lollipop still in her hand.

  “Yeahhhhhh!” The guy on the screen groaned as he shoved his cock back inside of her. “God, you’ve got such a tight little hole, baby girl.”

  From the sofa, Doc groaned, too, his hand slowing on his cock, squeezing the tip hard. The girl’s pigtails bounced with every thrust, and she moaned and rocked. She reached her lollipop between her legs and the camera zoomed in on her bare slit as she rubbed it over and over her clit. I stared, feeling the pulse of my own clit.

  I wedged my hand down into my cutoffs, fingers probing the moist heat of my pussy, so sensitive now that it was bald and exposed. Doc pumped his cock again, his hand gripping the top, moving the loose skin over the head. I saw the tip of it was a little wet and wondered what it tasted like.

  Rubbing my clit was difficult like this because the seam of my cutoffs rode against my hand when I moved. I shifted, frustrated, as I watched Doc’s hand slip up under his shirt. He tweaked his nipple, groaning and thrusting upward.

  The girl sucked her lollipop again, arching her back and looking over her shoulder at the older man fucking her. She made a little pout with her lips and asked in that same breathy, high voice, “Do you like fucking the babysitter, Mr. Smith?”

  Doc groaned out loud, and I saw him squeeze the tip of his cock again until it turned bright red. His hips moved, his head back and his eyes closed. “He loves fucking the babysitter, sweetheart!” I heard Doc murmur, opening his eyes again halfway.

  He used his palm to rub the wet head of his cock. I flushed, wondering if he was thinking about me. The girl on the screen looked a little like me—the dark hair and eyes, the slender body and small breasts. The thought made me desperate to touch myself. I tried rubbing the seam of my jeans over my clit, but it was just a tease. I needed more stimulation. I stood on the step, balancing as I slid my cutoffs and panties off.

  My fingers slid through the slippery, wet folds of flesh of my pussy, so soft and smooth. I could open my legs now, and I did, shifting to lean back against the wall at a better angle to see both Doc and the screen. I spread and pulled on my lips as I watched the babysitter who looked a little like me get fucked by that great big cock.

  The girl was on top of him now, a jerky transition as she sat on his cock, facing the camera, her movements uncoordinated and unsure. He grabbed her hips, putting her legs up, and gripped her ass, fucking her from underneath. His motion was fluid, fast and hard, making her moan, her tiny breasts bouncing up and down.

  “Yeah!” Doc moaned at the television, his hand speeding up. “Fuck her good.”

  I slipped my fingers inside of my pussy, staring at Doc’s stiff cock. It was swollen and red, and although it paled in comparison to the enormous thing on the screen, it was real flesh, engorged with blood, being pumped just ten feet from me. I could hear the sound of it, the slap and shuffle of his hand from base to tip.

  I teased my clit with my fingers, rubbing it in circles. I was already so wet I could feel my juices slipping down the crack of my ass. That was one thing about being shaved—there was nothing there to impede the flow. My panties were wet all the tim
e now.

  “Mr. Smith, what are you doing!” the pigtailed girl gasped. I watched as he turned her over, his wet fingers probing her asshole. I stared, stunned, open mouthed.

  “Yeahhhh,” Doc moaned, moving his hips lower on the sofa. “Fuck that tight little asshole.” Shocked, I stared at the screen where that enormous cock was easing into a place it never should have even thought about going.

  Horrified, I didn’t think, I just reacted—I gasped out loud.

  Doc turned his head toward the stairs, and I knew he could see me through the banister, my shorts off, my legs spread. I sat for a moment, paralyzed, and so did he, our eyes locking.

  Then, I grabbed my cutoffs and ran upstairs to my room. I heard him following me and I slammed my door, mortified, burying my face in my pillow.

  “Ronnie?” He opened my door without knocking. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Go away!” I moaned into my pillow. I hadn’t even had time to put my shorts back on.

  “It’s okay,” he said, his voice reassuring. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

  “Go away,” I moaned again, shaking my head.

  “You’re beautiful, Ronnie.” I turned my face a little, listening. “Did it feel good?” he asked after a moment. “Touching yourself like that?”

  My pussy was still wet and aching to be touched. “Yes,” I admitted.

  “It feels good when I do it, too,” he said. “It’s normal, you know. Totally natural.”

  I nodded, hugging my pillow. “I know.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, but I heard a sound that had become familiar to me—his hand slipping up and down the length of his cock.

  I rolled over, and sure enough, he was standing there in my doorway, his jeans down over his hips, stiff cock in his hand.

  “Doc…” I lifted my eyes to his. If I’d thought he was looking at me with lust the other day on the beach...suffice it to say that now I knew what real lust looked like. His eyes darkened with it as they moved over my body, focusing between my legs.

  “It feels good,” he murmured, and I shifted my gaze back down to his hand as it moved faster. “Don’t you want to keep touching yourself?”

  I made a noise, half moan, half whimper, nodding.

  “Spread your legs for me, Ronnie.” He squeezed the head again. “Please?”

  I hesitated, seeing his eyes focused between my thighs, the look in them making me feel faint. He looked like he could eat me alive.

  “Go ahead,” he said, and I heard his breath coming faster. Mine was, too. “I won’t touch you or do anything, I promise. I just want to see you.”

  I opened for him, my knees up and falling to the side. He groaned, his hand moving rapidly.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his face almost pained as he looked at me. “Will you pull up your shirt and let me see all of you?”

  I swallowed, nodding, squirming under his gaze as I slipped my t-shirt off and undid the front hook on my bra, letting it fall open. I leaned back on my elbows now, completely nude.

  He let out a slow breath through pursed lips, shaking his head. “Do you know how much I want you?”

  I shook my head, blushing, feeling how much as he looked at me, seeing it in the red throbbing of the cock in his hand.

  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to keep doing this,” he murmured, pumping, that slick sound filling the room. “Mostly because you’re so fucking beautiful I can’t stop...”

  I stared, my mouth a little open, my eyes half-closed, aching all over.

  “But what I really want is to see you touch yourself,” he whispered, his eyes between my legs. “I want to see you come. Would you do that for me?”

  I blushed, feeling a heat creeping over my cheeks and my chest, but I slipped my hand between my thighs. He nodded his encouragement, leaning against the door frame and groaning when I spread my lips open with my fingers, looking for my clit.

  His reaction made me bolder and I used both hands, pulling my lips apart, showing him. He made a noise in his throat, his hand flying up and down his shaft now. I used my fingers to rub my clit, moaning a little as I circled it faster and faster. I was so excited now, I was dripping wet.

  “Good girl,” he breathed, and I watched him, too, the sound of our labored breathing filling the room. He moved a little further into the doorway, his eyes burning between my thighs.

  “Oh, Doc,” I moaned, using my palm to rub my nipple, making it hard, sending shivers through me. It felt so good I could barely breathe.

  “Yes,” he murmured, taking a few more steps toward my bed, looking down at me. His hand was a blur over his shaft, but I could still see the red tip, wet with pre-cum.

  “Oh, God,” I gasped, rocking my hips, arching, pulling at my nipples and twisting them as I played with my clit. “My pussy feels so good.”

  He groaned, standing beside the bed now. I could have reached out and touched his cock, and I wanted to, but didn’t dare. I looked up at him and saw he was staring at my fingers, moving back and forth in my wetness, now, teasing my clit toward release.

  “Doc, I’m close,” I whispered, feeling that sweet ache reaching a delicious peak, the hot friction of my fingers driving me upward fast. He nodded, squeezing the head of his cock again, and this time I could see it actually throbbing between his fingers, the tip leaking a clear, thick fluid.

  “Come on,” he growled, and he started stroking again, aiming his cock toward where my fingers were massaging my pussy, fast and furious now. I was breathless and gasping, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out as the first wave of my orgasm washed over me.

  “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.

  Chapter Seven

  “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 t
o 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.”