eXcessica publishing
Baumgartner Shorts © January 2012 by Selena Kitt
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
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First Edition January 2012
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Baumgartner Shorts
By Selena Kitt
Get both Meet the Baumgartners and A Baumgartner Christmas, two stories in Selena Kitt’s bestselling Baumgartner series!
MEET THE BAUMGARTNERS
Carrie swore off men after a relationship-gone-bad in her freshman year of college and is perfectly happy with her roommate and lover, Maureen - until she discovers Steve Baumgartner ("Call me 'Doc,' everybody does") in a very compromising - and decidedly sexy - position. Meeting Doc complicates things, but when Maureen's very-religious boyfriend becomes a real threat and the gang goes to Key West for summer break, Carrie finds herself swept away by circumstance into a whirlwind of lust and sexual discovery.
A BAUMGARTNER CHRISTMAS
In spite of a brief experimentation early in their relationship, Doc and Carrie Baumgartner have since maintained a monogamous marriage without too much difficulty or even temptation—until now. A move far from home, coupled with new friends and long hours away from each other in classes or at work, have left the young Baumgartner couple on shaky ground. Doc believes bringing in someone “new” like they did early in their relationship might add just the spice their marriage needs, but Carrie isn’t so sure about that plan. Doc has a surprise Christmas present for his wife anyway—but in an ironic twist, he discovers she has one for him as well, and each gift allows the Baumgartners to rediscover, in the true spirit of Christmas, an expansive love that includes not only their feelings for each other, but their ability to share that inclusive passion with others as well.
Table of Contents
MEET THE BAUMGARTNERS
The guy had the most beautiful cock she had ever seen.
Not that she’d really seen that many. Carrie had seen her father’s and her brother’s, of course, but neither in a sexual way. There had been four boys, though—two in high school and two during her freshman year in college. All of them had rather average penises, although the last one, Mike, had been very proficient in using his.
But this guy…
He was exquisite. The sight of him made her ass clench and her belly thrum with excitement.
And that just wasn’t okay.
Because she’d sworn off men during her freshman year, had even thought about switching teams—she loved women, and was attracted to them almost as equally as men. At least, that’s what she’d told herself after Mike, and for three years, she’d believed it—until she saw the guy with the gorgeous cock stroking it in the dorm bathroom.
And it was all her own damned fault.
They had co-ed dorms, each gender separated by floors. She was on the third, in a room on the end, and the bathroom was all the way at the other end of the long tiled hallway. At three in the morning, snuggled under the covers with an aching bladder full of beer and an already-throbbing head, Carrie would fight her body, listening to her roommate, Maureen, snoring softly in the darkness, until she couldn’t stand it for another minute.
By that time, the distance down the hall to the left seemed like miles. It was much faster to sprint down the short flight of stairs to her right where, just inside the door at the bottom, the first floor bathroom sat empty and oh-so-accessible. If it just happened to be the men’s bathroom, well, she could always feign intoxication, apologize profusely and skedaddle—she had, on one occasion, interrupted a guy at a urinal, whose surprise had nearly caused a horrible zipper accident.
Most of the time, she simply slipped in, quickly relieved herself, and was back in her own bed before anyone spotted her. Besides, it was summer now, and only a fraction of the school’s student body was even on campus. The odds of her getting caught went down considerably during summer term.
She probably would have slipped in and out unnoticed that night, too, except she heard his low, soft moan. She sat, her bladder throbbing blissfully in relief, and listened, her breath still in her throat. At first, she assumed it was some drunk guy moaning to the porcelain god, about to toss his cookies. Then he moaned again, and she distinctly heard him whisper hoarsely, “Yeah, baby, fuck me!”
The words made her flush with heat, and when she wiped herself, her pussy was moist with more than just urine. She sat frozen, barely breathing, her whole body attuned to the sound. She couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from. It wasn’t any of the six bathroom stalls—like most men’s rooms, none of them had doors, and she was in the very last. So where was he?
Carrie stood and, instead of flushing, crept out of the stall in pink stockinged feet, pulling her robe more tightly around her. The stalls were behind a wall—at least it gave them some modicum of privacy—and the sinks were on the other side of that. She’d peeked in before heading toward a stall and hadn’t seen anyone.
“Oh god, yeah! Gimme that hot little pussy!”
Carrie stopped and blinked, her own little pussy suddenly quite hot, looking at the row of sinks, which all stood empty, the mirror above the first one reflecting her smeared mascara and a disheveled blond mass of hair. Then she glanced at the row of shower stalls across from the sinks with a dawning realization.
“Oh that’s so good! Fuck me hard!” The guy made a low growl in his throat that sent shivers through her as she crept closer to the showers. The bathrooms in the building were all the same, and the showers down here were no different than they were upstairs, six stalls across with dark brown curtains you could draw for privacy. Only one of them was pulled closed, and that’s where she was sure the voice was coming from. It was the biggest shower stall, the handicapped-accessible one.
The one with the bench.
That’s when she knew she had to see him. Just the image of him stretched out on that tiled slab, cock in hand, had her gulping with lust. She could hear his breath now, fast and harsh. The shower wasn’t on and the tile under her feet was dry as she neared the curtain, listening to him moan and grunt behind it.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered—a true whisper this time, but she could hear it. He was just on the other side of the fabric barrier. Did she dare? “You like that cock? You like it up inside you like that?”
She actually had to bite her lip to keep from moaning her agreement, and without another thought, her hand slipped between the slit in her robe to cup her mound through the cotton stretch of her panties as she used just one finger of her other hand to inch the edge of the curtain aside.
That was all she needed.
It took all of her willpower not to gasp at the sight of him, like some bronzed Greek god. The bench was long enough for him to stretch out, and he was completely nude, a pair of boxers beside him on the floor, a dark-colored material—a robe—spread out beneath him over the tile’s surface. His eyes were closed—thank god—the hair on his head dark and curly, his mouth slightly open as he pumped his fist between his legs.
She took in all of this in an instant, the overhead fluorescents, which stayed on throughout the night, giving her a clear view of the lewd scene, and while she noted and appreciated the defined muscles in his arms, chest and stomach and the dark line of hair that extended from his navel downward, her real focus centered solely on his cock, thick and hard and fucking the fist wrapped around it.
She recognized him, of course—he was in her Comparative Religion class, and had been in her Psychology class two years before. She’d seen him coming and going, they’d even nodded “hi” to each other in passing. Her roommate Maureen had talked about him a few times—he was on the soccer team with Maureen’s boyfriend, James. What was his name again? Steve…something…Brumbaugh? She couldn’t remember.
Leaning against the wall, she watched, unable to ignore the insistent pulse between her own legs. Her fingers slipped under the elastic leg of her panties, noting the wet cotton crotch, before parting the dark blonde tangle of curls that barred the way to her core. The heat of her pussy was incredible, and she slipped her fingers inside as she watched him thrust into his own fist.
She usually didn’t use any sort of penetration when she masturbated, preferring just to circle her clit to completion, but his cock made her weak with longing. He was imagining some girl fucking him, she knew, and she found herself wanting to be that girl, aching to climb on top of him and go for a long, wet ride on that magnificent thing. She rocked her hand, back and forth, fingering herself, catching his rhythm, her thumb teasing her clit, and it took everything she had not to whimper in pleasure.
“Ohhh fuck! Don’t make me come yet!” He moaned, his head going back, his hips rocking up, his hand still now, squeezing so hard the tip of his cock practically turned purple. Carrie watched, trying to control her breath, as he slowly released his death grip and a thick trickle of pre-cum slid down the glorious length of his dick.
“That was close,” he whispered and she nodded in agreement, swallowing hard and leaning her hot forehead against the cool tile. He shook his cock a little from side to side and then slapped it gently against the hard muscles of his belly. Seeing him do that was both sexy and embarrassing—he thought he was completely alone, having a private fantasy, and she damned well knew she should get back to her room as fast as she could. Not only was she in danger of him seeing her, but there was the added threat that anyone could walk into the bathroom at any minute.
“I want your mouth.”
Carrie groaned inwardly, her salivary glands already working overtime. If there was one thing she loved, truly loved, it was giving head. She may have made it through high school a virgin, but none of her boyfriends could complain they weren’t satisfied. All of them had praised her oral skills, even the very first one, and she’d only gotten better with time.
“Suck me off, baby, while I lick your sweet little cunt.”
Oh yes. That was her other favorite thing. It was no wonder she’d decided batting for the other team wasn’t such a bad idea, given how much oral sex she’d shared with girlfriends in high school and college. She loved the taste of pussy almost as much as she loved sucking cock. Maybe more. God, it was so hard to choose.
“That’s it, alllll around the tip,” he urged, and her eyes widened as he licked his hand and made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, easing it over the already slick head of his cock. He began to stroke it that way, no fist this time, just the circle of his finger and thumb moving over the head.
Right where I want my mouth, she thought, her fingers busy again, this time back at her clit instead of inside. She’d stopped worrying about him seeing her—he was too focused on what he was doing to notice or probably care—and, hell, so was she.
“Oh god, I love the taste of your pussy,” he murmured, and Carrie flushed as she quickly tasted herself, musky and pungent, before slipping her fingers back into her panties. They were soaked now, and she didn’t dare rub herself too hard, or he would hear the wet sound of her pussy. “Yeah, baby, come all over my face!”
Oh god. She rocked her hips, biting her lip hard as she did as she was told, imagining his tongue, his hands gripping her hips. Her clit throbbed with her climax, her pussy clamping down hard, and she wished, for the first time in a long time, that she had a cock inside of her as she came—his cock.
“Ahhhhhh god, I’m gonna come in your mouth!” he growled, bucking up, his fist taking over, pumping so fast it was all a blur. “Take it! Swallow it!”
Carrie did, lifting her wet fingers to her mouth again and sucking deep, watching a hot flood of cum spill over his knuckles. His belly clenched and rolled as he moaned with pleasure, his cum frothing over the head of his dick as he thrust hard into his hand.
“Oh fuck,” he murmured, his other arm thrown over his eyes. He was panting now, catching his breath, and she was glad, because so was she, and she didn’t want him to hear her. When he sat up quickly, she nearly ran, but then he was standing, tossing his boxers onto the bench, his back to her as he quickly washed off in the shower.
She dared to linger, knowing she shouldn’t, appreciating this new view, his ass cheeks clenching as he lathered his cum-covered cock with the soap from the dispenser on the wall. I could use a shower, she thought, watching the water bead on his tanned skin. The sight of him was mesmerizing, and she blamed her slow response on her fixation when he quickly twisted the knob to turn off the water, twisting to grab his robe.
The sudden motion startled her, and it would have been fine if the tile beneath her feet hadn’t been wet and soapy from his quick shower, the second drain behind her designed to capture the runoff. She didn’t just step back, she leapt back, and slipped, going down hard on the tile—so hard her teeth rattled.
“What the hell?”
The curtain flew open and he stood there in his robe, his boxers in hand, gaping down at her.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized meekly from the floor, her whole body burning with embarrassment. It was horribly awkward, but she scrambled to her feet, making a bee-line to the exit.
“Hey!” he called after her, but she straight-armed the door, tearing up the stairs and into her room.
She stood there, panting harshly in the darkness, waiting for Maureen to wake up and ask what in the hell was going on. When she didn’t, Carrie slid out of her robe and stripped off her wet socks, shoving them shamefully under the bed before climbing into it and hiding under the covers, hoping morning would never come.
* * * *
Carrie hated working in the cafeteria. Nothing screamed “I’m poor!” more than serving her classmates food every day. But she was poor. And they all had wealthy parents. Hell, they all had parents. That was more than she had.
“Where’s Juliana?” Carrie poked her head out of the kitchen to see her staff sitting at a table together eating Frosted Flakes and scrambled eggs. She’d been the student manager since her freshman year.
“Sick,” was the reply someone mumbled through a mouthful of granola and Carrie rolled her eyes. Sick, translated in college-speak, meant hungover. Great. She was going to have to work the register.
It wasn’t that it was a hard job—it was actually the easiest job description in the world. You just had to sit there and run cards through the machine. Still, she hated it. She hated the way they looked at her. Maybe she imagined the looks of pity, but it was the glassy not-there looks that bothered her the most. She was invisible, other, not a part of them.
At least it was mindless. She opened the doors when her staff had cleared their dishes and moved off to their stations. There was a power in that, seeing her hungry classmates lined up outside the locked glass doors, waiting to be let in. Still, it felt hollow, and it was.
Carrie sat and ran the first glut of cards as quickly as she could, the line backing up behind her, the chatter inane. And still, she envied them. She wanted to stand in line, too, oblivious to the concerns of the service worker sliding her I.D. through the card reader as she talked with her friends and worried about her finals.
Well, she was worried about her finals—but she was always worried about her grades. She’d lose her scholarship if she didn’t, and in spite of Maureen’s urging, she often turned down invitations to go out with the gang on a Friday or Saturday night because she had to study.
Two more weeks, she told herself, running another card through the reader and handing it back without even looking. At least the summer semester was slower than most. There would be a two week break between the end of the summer and the beginning of fall term, and she usually dreaded that brief break, with nowhere to go, no home to go to, but this year Maureen had talked her into coming with her to Key West. She’d been saving all year for the trip. It was just one more year of school after that and she’d be free.
She reached for the next card—the line had thinned out now, and students were coming in sporadically—but it stuck fast in the hand holding it. Carrie looked up in surprise and felt her stomach drop when she saw was whose card it was. Her eyes moved up to meet his. He was smiling.
“Hi, Carrie.”
Stephen J. Baumgartner. That’s what it said on his card, she could see it printed next to the picture his thumb was half-covering.
“Uh, hi,” Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Last night was a dream. That’s what she told herself when she’d turned off her alarm this morning and Maureen had pulled a pillow over her head as Carrie started getting ready to work the breakfast shift. It was all a fuzzy dream through the haze of Friday night drinking—she hadn’t really slipped into the men’s bathroom downstairs and watched a guy jerking off in the shower.
Except here he was, and just seeing him standing next to her, wearing the unofficial campus uniform—jeans, a preppy Polo shirt and loafers—brought it all back in a rush. She’d seen him out of those clothes, and the image of him sprawled on the shower bench, his cock in hand, was burned into her memory like a brand.
“So…” He let the word dangle and she flushed, willing someone to come in the door behind him. He’d finally let his card go and she ran it through the machine, handing it back when the indicator light went from red to green. The picture on it was a good one—he was photogenic, apparently, his dark hair a curly mop, a mischievous, lop-sided grin on his tanned face. Who took a good school I.D. picture, for pete’s sake? No one! She had her eyes half-closed in hers, her honey-colored hair pulled back into a severe ponytail.
“There’s gonna be a frat party tonight in our dorm.” He took his card back, slipping it into his wallet.
So they were going to pretend nothing had happened. Okay, she could do that. It was a relief to at least have a direction. But why was he telling her about it?
“Yeah, I’m sure Maureen will be there.” That was all she could figure—he was interested in her roommate. Maureen never missed a frat party, finals be damned, especially one so close to home. Of course, Maureen didn’t have to worry about her grades, either. Her parents hadn’t sent her to a small, prestigious New England school to get good grades—they’d sent her to find a suitable husband. And she’d already practically done that. As long as James and frat parties never crossed paths, Maureen was golden.
“What about you?” His smile was infectious and she had to fight the urge to smile back.
Instead, she shook her head. “Finals coming up.”
“So you’re gonna be all alone in your room studying all night?”
“I guess.” She shrugged.
“Want some company?” Damn that smile. She thought he couldn’t get any better-looking and then he went and smiled.
“I study better alone.” It was usually enough of a rebuff for most guys.
He leaned toward her, palms flat on the table she was sitting at, his gaze fixed on hers. “Could be more fun with a partner.”
Were they still talking about studying? She took a deep breath and looked away, behind him, where someone was coming in for breakfast. Thank god.
“I don’t need a study-buddy, but thanks for the offer,” she said, waving her hand dismissively as she reached past him to take an outstretched card.
“Ouch.” The guy who gave her the card—she didn’t know his name but recognized him by the bright red shock of hair on his head and a matching beard—slapped Stephen on the back and grinned. He must have overheard. She gave him his card back as he steered Stephen past her table, toward the cafeteria. “Come on, Doc, they don’t call her the Ice Queen for nothing!”
Carrie sat there, all the air sucked from her lungs. Ice Queen? Did they really call her that? It was so far from the truth it was almost funny, but she wasn’t laughing. In fact, she found herself on the verge of tears.
She heard laughter as the two of them got into line. Her face burned and her eyes stung. She just sat there, motionless, her breath stuck somewhere in her chest.
Ice Queen, am I? she thought, her eyes narrowing, her mouth drawing into a tight bow. We’ll see about that.
* * * *
Carrie was still wet from her shower—she always took a long, hot shower after a shift at work, even a breakfast one—wrapped in a towel and just sitting on the edge of her bed when Maureen came back from her morning class.
“James called,” Carrie informed her friend as Maureen tossed her books on her bed. “Wanted to know what you were doing tonight.”
“Spoilsport.” Maureen rolled her eyes. “Did you tell him we were going to the library?”
“Of course.” Carrie watched as Maureen headed for their little refrigerator to grab a soda. “Hey Mo?” Carrie used her pet name.
“Hmm?” Maureen pulled the tab on the soda and tossed it into the garbage, already gulping.
“Do you think I’m frigid?”
A sugary spray of Pepsi came out of Maureen’s mouth and she gasped, blinking her watery eyes and wiping her face with the back of her hand. “What?”
Carrie frowned, trying to make the quiver in her lower lip disappear. “Do they all really call me the Ice Queen?”
“Oh sweetie…” Maureen put her soda on the dresser and came over to sit next to Carrie on the edge of the bed. “It’s just something they say to make themselves feel better…I mean, you’re kind of cool with the guys, you know?” She slipped an arm around her friend’s waist, resting her dark, curly head against Carrie’s shoulder. “They just don’t know you like I do.”
“But they’re right.” Carrie sighed. “I am an Ice Queen.”
Maureen made a small denying noise in her throat, pushing her roommate back onto her little twin bed. The towel came undone easily and Carrie didn’t move to cover herself as Maureen stretched out beside her.
“No, Care-Bear…it’s not true. They’re blind.” Maureen’s mouth covered Carrie’s nipple, sucking hard. Oh god, that was good. They’d been very drunk and horny and had been up practically all night talking about sex the first time they’d done anything like this together their freshman year, but it was something they fell into easily now, without even thinking.
“Look how hard your nipples get.” Maureen tugged gently at the other one between thumb and forefinger. “And I bet you’re already wet.”
Carrie sighed softly, her hips shifting. She was wet, had been wet all night and all morning, just remembering Steve and his delicious cock. Running into him had only made it worse.
“Maybe I just forgot how to be with men.” Carrie welcomed Maureen to her breasts, her hands moving through dark spiral curls as Maureen’s tongue lashed against the pink ache of her nipples, one after the other.
“Maybe you should give it another shot,” Maureen murmured, her bare thigh wedged nicely between Carrie’s legs, the button of her jean shorts biting into the soft press of her friend’s belly.
“Something happened last night…” Carrie confessed, wiggling in anticipation as Maureen’s hot mouth made a trail from her breasts down to her navel.
“What?” Maureen’s fingers were deft, practiced, sure. She knew just what her lover wanted, parting her glistening blonde curls and circling Carrie’s clit with her thumb. “Tell me.”
Carrie did, hesitantly at first, embarrassed, but her words and her breath came faster the more she remembered—and the more urgently Maureen’s fingers worked between her thighs.
“Did it turn you on?” Maureen’s mouth had found her center, her tongue teasing the little ridge of Carrie’s clit. “Did you want his cock?”
“Yes.” Carrie flushed, closing her eyes and imagining it—his fingers, his mouth, his gorgeous fucking cock. She was crazy for it, obsessed. She couldn’t help herself, even with Maureen’s tongue making sweet circles just where she liked it, her long, delicate well-manicured fingers spreading Carrie’s pussy lips wide.
“Do you want it more than you want my pussy?” Maureen teased, moving quickly to stand next to the bed and wiggle out of her shorts, leaving her pussy exposed near Carrie’s eye-level. She had a beautiful cunt, her dark pubic hair sparse, her outer lips swollen, but the inner ones pink and puffy and always peeking out a little. Her clit hid at the top, the button of her pleasure center that Carrie loved to control with her fingers, her mouth, her tongue.
“Come here.” Carrie reached her arms out and Maureen assumed their favorite position, straddling her friend’s face while burying her own between Carrie’s already open thighs. They settled in together that way, making little noises in their throats, both of them enjoying the giving and receiving at once.
Maureen’s tongue moved back and forth over that choice, sensitive spot, and Carrie rubbed her palms over her own nipples, sending pleasure waves down through her belly toward her hips. Everything centered where Maureen’s mouth licked and sucked, soft, wet friction that made her wiggle, wanting more.
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 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, 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.
“Jesus.” Mark whispered the word but Carrie barely registered it as Maureen’s thumbs moved achingly slowly against her nipples, sending bright flashes of pleasure down to her pussy.
“There,” Maureen murmured, breaking the kiss and turning back to the table suddenly. Carrie gulped, her eyes still half-closed, her breath coming too fast.
“Deal, man,” Steve said breathlessly as Carrie remembered where she was, crossing her arms over her chest again. “Just deal.”
Somehow they’d drawn even more of a crowd. There was a ring of spectators surrounding them now, mostly guys, and Carrie noticed at least one of them absently rubbing at his crotch, as if he had an itch there.
Please, let me get a good hand, she thought, holding her cards in close, still trying to cover herself at the same time. It didn’t do any good, though—she had everyone’s gaze glued to her mostly-naked flesh.
She had a pair—it was a good start, the best she’d had all night. She gave back three cards, and turned over the new three with high hopes.
“Oh man, that’s it, that’s all she wrote!” Mark hooted as Steve laid down a royal flush, pulling off his other sock and slapping it on the table, too. “Take them off, sweetheart! Let’s see that bush!”
“Hey, man.” Steve shook his head, nudging Mark. “You don’t have to.” He met Carrie’s desperate gaze. “Really.”
“Come on!” a voice called from the back. “The Ice Queen thaws! I gotta see this!”
“You really want to see, boys?” Carrie stood, hooking her thumbs in the elastic edge of her panties to a growing crowd of hoots and howls. But that wasn’t good enough—if she was going to do it, she might as well go all the way. Shoving her chair forward, she used it to step up onto the table.
She heard the sounds of the crowd and was aware they were mostly guys, but her gaze fell onto Steve—Doc—as he stared up at her, almost hypnotized. She was topless, nearly nude except for the last wisp of white cotton material between her legs. She turned around, her backside to Steve, slowly letting her panties roll down her ass. They stuck slightly between her thighs and she tugged gently, bent almost in half, knowing he could see her pussy now from behind as she stepped out of them.
She stood up quickly, flipping her hair over her shoulder and swinging her panties around a finger. The crowd had moved in, making a close circle, the yowls and whoops growing even more excited now that she was completely exposed.
“Is that what you wanted?” Carrie turned and dropped her panties in Steve’s lap, seeing the unmistakable look of lust in his eyes—it was the same look they were all giving her, surrounding her.
“Come on down,” Maureen pleaded, standing to help her, and Carrie stepped onto her chair, then to the floor.
“Who’s the ice queen now?” Carrie turned to her friend and kissed her without provocation, bodies pressed together, tongues entwined. The crowd literally cheered.
“Okay, enough.”
Carrie barely heard the words, but she felt big, strong hands on her shoulders, and then Steve was separating the two women, pulling his t-shirt over her head.
“What are you doing?” Carrie tried to twist away from him but he caught her up against him tightly.
“This is going to get out of control,” he growled into her ear. “You’re drunk and have no idea what you’re doing.”
“What in the hell is going on here?” The voice that truly broke things up was James’—Maureen’s boyfriend. “You said you were going to be at the library!”
Uh-oh. Carrie saw Maureen’s look of sheer panic.
“James, I—” Maureen moved to cover herself, as if she were the one who was nude, while in reality she was almost fully dressed, except for her divested socks.
“Come with me. Now.” James grabbed Maureen’s arm and pulled her through the crowd—they were hissing and booing at the interruption in the show. Carrie called after her friend, but Steve pulled her in the opposite direction, leaving Mark, their last Strip Truth or Dare player, sitting alone at the card table surrounded by a drunk and pissed off crowd.
“Where are we going?” Carrie tried again to yank out of his grip, but he was too strong, dragging her down a hallway and up a flight of stairs. She thought she heard voices following them, but the noise of the party was too loud for her to be sure.
“In here.” He unlocked a dorm room with a key he dug from his jeans pockets—he was still just wearing his boxers, but he’d grabbed his jeans, and it looked like he’d managed to snag most of their other clothes as well.
“Hey, baby, where did you go?” Carrie heard voices in the stairwell now for sure. “Come back and dance for us!”
Steve pushed her into the room and shut the door behind them, locking it and flipping a light switch.
“Where’d she go, man?” They were in the hallway now, pounding on doors.
“Fuck if I know, but I want some of that!” More pounding.
“What—?” Carrie started, but Steve’s hand over her mouth stopped her as the crowd passed, thumping loudly on the door and then moving to the next. It was only when the voices had moved to the end of the hallway that he let her go.
She gasped and glared at him. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Probably saving you from a gangbang.” He tossed their clothes onto one of the twin beds and sat on the other one. “That got totally out of hand.”
Carrie felt her face flush, and wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or the effect of the alcohol she’d consumed all night. He was right—she was more than a little drunk, and remembering the show she’d just put on made her wince.
“I can handle myself.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sat on the other twin bed. The voices had faded, but she could hear them, downstairs now, calling. She was still wearing just his t-shirt and she pulled that down over her bare knees. He looked at her, amused.
“I guess we’re even now,” she said, peering around his dorm room. It was redolent with masculinity, the smell of aftershave and sweat. Her eyes met his questioning gaze for just a moment before skipping away. “Now you’ve seen me naked.”
“Not exactly even.” He grinned, leaning back on the bed and lacing his hands behind his head. “I haven’t seen you masturbating.”
Her spine straightened, eyes flashing. “Do you want to? I’m not frigid, you know.”
“I never said you were.” A smile still played over his lips. “If you were a prude, you never would have stayed to watch me.”
She blinked at him and then flushed. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” His gaze held hers, bold.
“Where’s your roommate?” The more she looked around the room, the more she took in—the medical books lining a bookshelf in one corner; huge, oversize art books lining another. There was an easel on this side of the room, and a desk with drawing pads and pencils. The other desk was messy, full of papers and open texts.
“He’s out with his boyfriend.”
“Boy…friend?” She nodded then, understanding.
“He’s uh…well, I think he’s kind of got a crush on me.” Steve looked a little embarrassed at the admission.
“Which is why you were down in the showers that night instead of here in your room?”
“Something like that.” He shrugged, looking at the ceiling. “So tell me something…what were you doing in the men’s room that night?”
“It’s closer,” she confessed. “I hate going all the way down the hall…”
He laughed. “Naughty girl.”
“Sometimes.” She hoped the dim lamp light hid some of the heat rising in her cheeks.
“And you found me jerking off and decided to watch?”
The heat was spreading from her cheeks down her chest. “Something like that.”
“Did it turn you on?” That look in his eyes was familiar. It was the same look he had on his face when he was watching her take off her panties.
“Yes,” she confessed.
“Did it make you wet?”
She didn’t have breath to speak now. She just nodded.
“Did it make you want to touch yourself?”
“I did.” The confessions just kept on coming. She couldn’t seem to help herself.
“You did?” He raised his eyebrows, looking even more interested.
She nodded, finding it hard to catch her breath, as if the air in the room had grown suddenly thin.
“Show me.”
She was remembering, the sound of him, the way he moaned and bucked and fisted himself into a frenzy. The way she’d rubbed her little clit raw while she watched. Naughty girl. Yes, she was.
“Just like this.” Carrie stood, her breathing shallow already, and lifted the end of his t-shirt up over her thighs, revealing the soft mound beneath. Her fingers slipped between her oh-so-very swollen pussy lips, looking at his face as she made circles against her clit, just as she had that night.
At first he just watched, his eyes glazed, mouth slightly open. Then his hand moved slowly down to touch himself through his boxers, rubbing there. She could see the outline of his cock and it made her touch herself even faster.
When he slipped his hand under the elastic band of his boxers to grab himself, she moaned, biting her lower lip. “Please…” she whispered. “Can I see?”
He smiled and nodded. “Come closer.”
She did as she was told, moving so her thighs touched the edge of the bed, her gaze falling between his legs as he slid his boxers down.
“Oh god.” His cock was just as incredible as she’d remembered. “It’s so beautiful.”
He chuckled and that made her blush, but she was too far gone now to care.
“Can I touch you?” She was already reaching her hand out and he let her, groaning softly as she wrapped her small hand around the hot, swollen shaft.
“Can I?” He nudged her wet fingers aside, replacing them with his own. She gasped at the sensation, his hand probing between her legs. She sighed softly when his thumb strummed against her clit, his fingers pressing deep inside of her.
Her hand moved on him, squeezing at first, then tugging, rubbing his pre-cum onto the tip of his cock with her thumb. Her breathing matched his, her hips rocking, eyes half-closed.
“I want to see you.” His fingers curled inside of her, as if drawing her closer. “All of you.”
She pulled his t-shirt off her head with one hand, letting him have what he wanted. His cock swelled in her fist as he looked at her, chest heaving, breasts swaying as she stroked him faster, faster, hips rolling against the plunge of his hand between her legs.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he groaned and she bit her lip, squeezing him in response. The sound and feel of him, his breath coming so fast as she moved her hand over his cock, the shift and plunge of his hand between her thighs, was all too much.
“Oh god, girl,” he moaned, his eyes rolling back, his hips driving up hard. “Wait…wait…”
She couldn’t. Not even if she tried. His fingers buried inside of her were bringing her closer, faster, than she’d ever been. Her pussy clamped down on his hand, her clit throbbing under his thumb, and her orgasm rolled through her like a seismic event, shaking them both.
“Oh fuck yeah,” he groaned as her eyes closed and her cunt spasmed. “I’m gonna come for you, Carrie!”
Her name in his mouth! She pressed her hand between her legs, forcing his thumb hard against her clit, rubbing herself furiously.
“Gonna come!” he announced again, grunting, groaning. “Ohhhh fuck!” His hips thundered up to meet her strokes, spilling heat and wetness over the friction of her fist. She felt her knees wanting to buckle because she was coming, too, again, again, but she held on, her breath coming too fast, her hand squeezing the length of his cock as she aimed him and he splattered his bare belly with even more cum. Carrie shuddered with her climax, cupping his hand against her mound, both of their fingers buried in her sopping wetness.
When his eyes opened, he half-smiled and gasped out, “You are definitely no Ice Queen.”
Carrie stood fully then, ears still ringing and body flushed from orgasm, grabbing blindly for her clothes.
“Hey,” he protested, half-sitting as she pulled on her shorts, her shirt, grabbing her bra—her panties were nowhere to be found. “Where are you going? What—”
But she didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, pulling open the door and fleeing down the hallway.
* * * *
“I know, James.” Maureen stretched out on her bed, her arm thrown over her eyes, phone crooked next to her ear, while Carrie sat on her own bed, studying for her last final of the year. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone.”
Carrie flipped pages in her macroeconomics book, not really able to concentrate on interest rates in relation to the current state of unemployment. She knew James was preaching. She’d been roommates with Maureen long enough to have heard a sermon or two herself.
“Yes, James.” Maureen rolled over, the phone cord wrapping around her body. “Yes…I know…yes, ‘the good seed are the children of the kingdom…’”
Carrie almost laughed when Maureen covered the receiver with one hand and buried her face in her pillow to let out a scream. Then she put the phone back to her ear with a resigned sigh.
“No, Carrie didn’t make me.” Maureen rolled her eyes. “She is not a bad seed, James. Don’t blame her. It was my fault.”
Ah, of course, Carrie thought, flipping another page in her economic book so fiercely it tore. I’m the one to blame—the sinner, the atheist, the one who renounced God and led his poor little lamb astray.
It was true she didn’t have anything to do with church anymore—being fostered in what couldn’t have been called anything else but a “cult” had swayed her far away from any formal study of religion. But that didn’t mean she was bad, or wrong, or even that she wasn’t what she thought of as “spiritual.”
Not that James would care about any of her explanations or excuses anyway. She was a convenient scapegoat.
“I promise I’ll be a good girl in Key West,” Maureen assured him. “And you’ll be there, remember? You’ve got that retreat…”
Carrie closed her book and tossed it onto the floor. She’d been looking forward to going to Key West with Maureen all year, and now James had sprung some sort of religious retreat on them—he was going to Key West with them and already threatening to spoil their fun.
“Sorry, sweetie, the other line is ringing, and Carrie’s waiting for an important call…”
Carrie gave her a sharp look and Maureen stuck her tongue out. Steve—Doc—had called three times that day already. Carrie had been ignoring his calls all week.
“I’ll talk to you later. Love you too!” Maureen made kissing noises into the phone before clicking over. “Hello?”
Carrie knew who it was, just from the sly look on Maureen’s face. She waved her hands, warding off the phone, mouthing, “I’m not here!”
“Yep, she’s right here. Hang on.” Maureen held out the phone, grinning.
“Bitch,” Carrie whispered, grabbing the receiver and putting it to her flushed ear. “Hello?”
“Hey.” Damn his voice. It was like liquid velvet. “How’s my sexy little exhibitionist?”
She wasn’t even going to touch that. “Fine.”
“Good.” He sounded like he was smiling. “I thought maybe you might be avoiding me.”
“No,” she insisted, feeling her cheeks go crimson. “Just busy. Finals. You know.”
“Getting ready for Key West?”
She frowned into the phone. “Are you going?”
“I wasn’t,” he admitted. “My roommate kept trying to convince me to go, but I kept turning him down.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “So you’re not going?”
“Actually, I am,” he replied. Carrie thought she felt her heart stop for a moment. Maureen was flipping through an issue of People, but she knew her friend was listening to every word. “My parents have a time-share down there and turns out that week is free.”
“How convenient.”
“I thought so.” He laughed. “Maybe we can hang out?”
She looked away from Maureen’s gaze. “I’m sure I’ll be busy.”
He was quiet for a moment and she waited, twisting the phone cord around her finger.
“Carrie, I like you.” The words made her bones melt and she sank to the floor, curling up against her bed with the phone crooked against her ear. “And I’m pretty damned sure you like me.”
She swallowed, her back to Maureen now, but feeling her gaze. “Things are complicated.”
“We can make them simple,” he suggested.
Carrie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Another pause. Then he said, “I’ve been thinking about you.”
That made her smile. She’d been thinking about him, too. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. “What have you been thinking?”
“I’ve been thinking about your hands.”
“My hands?”
“Yeah, your hands…and how good they felt wrapped around my hard cock.”
“Ohh,” she breathed, her body temperature instantly rising two degrees at least.
“And your mouth,” he added. “And your sweet little pussy.”
“Hmm.” That was all the sound she dared to make. She was remembering, too, the pulse of him, the dark look of lust in his eyes.
“I haven’t just been thinking, to tell you the truth,” he admitted.
“No?”
He cleared his throat. “I’ve had to take a few cold showers in the middle of the night…”
She blinked at the phone, knowing just what he was talking about. “Really?”
“I have to admit…” His voice dipped lower, into an even sexier range, if that was humanly possible. “I was secretly hoping maybe you’d show up…”
“Steven…” She gulped.
“Call me Doc,” he said.
“Everybody does,” she finished with him, smiling.
“And of course, now that you’ve deigned to talk to me, I’m sure I’ll have to make another visit to the showers tonight.”
“Is that so?” She knew an invitation when she heard one.
“Probably around three. Just F.Y.I.”
“St—Doc…listen…”
He made it official. “Just in case you wanted to join me.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she said slowly, sounding sad, and she was. But did she really want to get involved? Things were, as she’d said, complicated. Did she want to complicate life even more?
He sighed. “Does this mean the Ice Queen has returned to her throne?”