Excerpt - A Baumgartner Christmas

Selena Kitt

Carrie told the pharmacist at Rite-Aid that it was for her grandmother. She even said it with a straight face. Poor grandma, she was getting on in years and really couldn’t get around well anymore and needed one of those medical seats for the shower.

Carrie didn’t have a grandmother.

Or a mother or a father for that matter, at least any that she knew.

What she did have was a very sexually adventurous husband and a tiny little apartment shower and a definite aversion to getting a closed head injury due to any of the above. She’d had one close call already—they’d had to replace the shower rod, and thankfully her husband had caught her before she cracked her head open—but she didn’t want a repeat performance.

Doc laughed when he saw it and called it “cute”—but he wasn’t laughing when she got on her knees on the stool and tilted up her ass as an offering, already soapy and wet and ready for him.

“Jesus!” he murmured, running his hands over the curve of her behind. She arched up to meet him, practically purring at his touch. His cock was like a brand against her thigh, instantly hard.

“You like my cute little stool now, don’t you?” she teased, swinging her ass slowly back and forth, a tease.

“I like your hot little ass.” He clamped both hands on it, spreading her cheeks, and she looked back to see that dark, wolfish look in his eyes he got when he was on the edge of losing control. She loved that look and knew what it meant.

“This ass?” She tightened her muscles, winking her asshole at him, hearing that low growl building in his throat. She barely had time to breathe before he was inside of her, plunging deep into her pussy, no buildup or foreplay, just a straight shot, as far and as deep as he could go.

Carrie yelped and clawed at the wall tile, bracing herself against the onslaught. She’d never been more grateful for a piece of furniture in her life, clinging to the edges of the stool, her knuckles white.

“Oh god, that’s so good,” he panted, grabbing her hips and driving in deeper. “Such a tight little pussy. But I know you’ve got something even tighter for me, don’t you, baby?”

She moaned as he circled her asshole with one finger, his cock slowing inside of her as if changing its mind all on its own about which orifice it wanted to fuck.

“No, no,” she whispered, knowing it was no use, giving only lip service to her denial. Her body knew what it wanted. The press of his finger was insistent, the soap and water mixed making her crack slippery enough for him to slip his first digit inside of her with relative ease.

“Did you really think you could get up here on display and not expect me to take your ass?” He finger-fucked her nice and slow, making her thighs tremble.

“I was hoping,” she murmured, pressing her cheek to the tile, her blonde hair hanging in wet strands across her face.

Doc chuckled, moving his hips back, sliding slowly out of her pussy. The steam rose around them in a cloud, the heat of the shower making her feel faint.

“Let’s see what else we can do with your new toy. Turn around.” He guided her when she didn’t move, sitting her bottom down on the shower stool, making her face-to-face with his groin. “Oh that’s just the perfect height, isn’t it?”

She nodded, not able to say anything else because his cock was aiming for the back of her throat. Carrie swallowed his length, letting him fuck her mouth, spreading her thighs wider on the seat and leaning forward, the hard plastic rubbing against the shaved swell of her pubes, her clit looking for something to rub up against.

“That’s my good girl.” He fisted a handful of her hair, tilting her head back so he could see her eyes, so full of hunger she could barely contain it. He watched his cock disappear again and again, rubbing the head against the roof of her mouth until she could taste his precum in her throat.

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