by Selena Kitt
“Hey Cap’n!” Doc exclaimed, clapping the old man on the back. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”
“Where’s your mom and dad?” the old man inquired.
Doc shook his head. “Just me this time—came with a bunch of friends for summer break.”
“And who’s this?” The gray-bearded man turned his attention to Carrie.
“I’m Carrie,” she replied, holding her hand out.
Doc made introductions. “Carrie, this is Captain Tony.”
“The Captain Tony?”
“Yes ma’am.” He tipped his white sailor’s hat at her as he shook her hand. “Meetcha.”
“I can’t believe Hemingway actually sat here.” Carrie turned her attention back to the vinyl-covered barstool.
“Would you like to sit on it?” Captain Tony asked.
Her eyes lit up. “Could I?”
“Well, you have to make an offering,” Doc said, grinning.
She gave him a sideways look, already suspicious. “What kind of offering?”
Captain Tony cleared his throat and pointed at the ceiling. She hadn’t noticed before—although how she’d missed it was beyond her—but the entire ceiling was full of bras of all shapes and sizes.
“You’re kidding me.” She stared at them both, then up at the ceiling, then back to Hemingway’s barstool.
“Okay... okay, fine.” She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra through her sundress, pulling one strap off, and then the other, slipping the entire thing out through one of the arm holes.
“Here.” She held it up, not realizing until that moment that they were being watched. The whole bar cheered and the bartender snapped a Polaroid of her holding up her underthings. Then he hopped over the bar holding a staple gun.
“I’ll take that.” He stepped up onto one of the stools and stapled her white cotton bra to the ceiling overlapping a leopard print bra and another made of red satin lace.
Captain Tony opened the red velvet rope and waved her through. “Have a seat!”
Carrie wasn’t going to give up her prize, and she made sure Doc got the Polaroid camera from behind the bar to take a picture of her on Hemingway’s barstool.
“Worth it?” he asked, still grinning.
Carrie glanced up at her bra, up there for all to see. “Totally.”
Doc ordered more pirate’s punch for them both and then asked, “Shouldn’t she be here?”
Carrie sipped her drink and nodded. “She’s notoriously late.”
“High maintenance sort of girl?”
“I love her, but she’s...” Carrie shrugged one shoulder.
“Spoiled?”
She smiled, but she couldn’t help but think of her friend fondly anyway. “You could say that.”
“But you’re not.” He took a drink and looked at her. “Spoiled, I mean.”
“I don’t know.” Carrie looked thoughtful. “I probably would have been if...” She let the rest of her thought trail off, but Doc filled in the blanks.
“The accident?”
“Foster families don’t really spoil their kids,” she said. “Especially when they’re very... religious. Very fundamentally, evangelically religious.”
“Don’t look at me.” Doc held his hands up in a warding off gesture when she glanced over at him. “My parents are both lapsed Methodists. No fire and brimstone here.”
She smiled. “That’s good.”
“Hey you.” Maureen breezed in, all cleaned up, wearing a respectable navy blue sun dress and a matching hat with a little white daisy on the front. “Sorry I’m late.”
“That’s okay,” Carrie waved her apology away as Doc slipped off the barstool beside her.
“I’ll be back,” he said, excusing himself, and Carrie knew he was just giving them time.
“Guess what, Care-Bear?” Maureen’s eyes were over bright, even in the dim bar. Carrie knew, somehow she just knew, but she played dumb.
“What, Mo?”
“He asked me to marry him!” Maureen squealed, holding out her left hand and showing off the biggest diamond Carrie had ever seen.
“I’m so happy for you.” Carrie hugged her friend, swallowing hard. What else could she do? “If you’re happy... are you happy?”
“Of course I’m happy!” Maureen exclaimed, waving her left hand around again. “He’s going to seminary next year, and we’ll live in married housing.”
“Good thing he’s not Catholic,” Carrie joked, sipping her pirate’s punch. “So I guess we won’t be roommates next year.”
Maureen’s eyes softened and she leaned in, touching her forehead to Carrie’s. “Well, we knew that would have to end some time.”
“Right.” Carrie managed to smile. “Well, I’m happy for you. Really, I am.” Who was she trying convince?
“He’s waiting for me outside.” Maureen waved the bartender—the same one she’d been ogling the night before—away when he asked what she wanted to drink. “I’m leaving with him today. Tonight. We’re going to Vegas.”
“But your ticket...”
“It’s transferable.” She shrugged.
“Your parents are going to have a heart attack.” Carrie tried to imagine Mrs. Holmes—Maureen’s immaculately dressed and coiffed mother—when she discovered her daughter had eloped to Vegas. “And I won’t get to be your maid of honor...”
Maureen laughed, putting her arms around Carrie’s neck and kissing her cheek. She smelled just of Jovan Musk now—no more tequila. “We’ll have a big wedding next year. I just want to seal the deal. If I don’t do it now...” Her voice trailed off and Carrie’s thoughts completed the sentence in her head, You’ll never do it at all.
Part of her wanted to beg Maureen to reconsider, to stay in Key West, hell, to spend another night with her and Doc for that matter. It felt as if her friend was heading down a road she couldn’t travel... and vice versa.
“I promise, you will get to wear a godawful bridesmaid dress.” Maureen giggled into Carrie’s ear. She pressed her lips there, just behind Carrie’s ear, making her shiver.
“Come on, Maureen.” It was James, standing tall behind them. “I’m double parked out there.”
Maureen slipped off the bar stool, leaning in to whisper, “I love you Care-Bear... I gotta run.”
“Love you, too, Mo...” Carrie’s words never reached her friend’s ears. Maureen was already halfway to the door by the time she got them out.
Then Doc was there, putting his arms around her, holding her up. “Are you okay?”
“She’s marrying him. Tonight. They’re going to Vegas.” The words were a shock, said out loud that way.
“I heard.” So he hadn’t been far. “I’m sorry.”
Carrie swallowed, looking toward the door where Maureen had disappeared. “She’s got to live her own life.”
“We all do,” Doc murmured against her ear.
She nodded, resting her head on his chest. “I just kind of hoped we might be going the same direction...”
“Well, maybe you’ll find someone else who’s going your way,” he whispered, his arms tightening around her.
She smiled, hugging him back. “Maybe I already have.”
A BAUMGARTNER CHRISTMAS
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 call
ed it “cute”—but he wasn’t laughing when she got on her hands and knees on the stool and tilted her ass up as an offering, already soapy and wet and ready for him.
“Jesus!” He ran his hands over the curve of her behind as she arched up to meet him, practically purring at his touch. His cock was as hot as 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 sliding 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 pre-cum in her throat.
Carrie arched like a cat being petted when he reached for her breast, fondling her, the flesh heavy in his hand. Just touching her made his cock harder in her mouth and she moaned in response, trying to take even more of him, choking as a result. He eased off, rubbing the head against her lips, her cheeks, while she sought it again with her tongue, too greedy to let him go.
“Hungry girl.” He rubbed pre-cum over her chin and she watched as he dipped his cock downward, playing connect-the-dots with the beaded water on her breasts. Carrie lifted them in her hands, looking up at the way his gaze followed the path he made over her skin as if the heat of his cock alone could leave a visible trail of fire.
“Fuck my tits, Doc.” She gave them to him like a gift, pressing them together, her dark nipples hard. He didn’t need to be asked more than once, shifting his hips and sliding in from underneath. Carrie watched, delighted, as the tip of his cock appeared between her cleavage. She snaked her tongue down to taste him, running along the underside, back and forth, teasing that sweet ridge.
“Suck.” He shoved up harder, getting the head into her mouth, just enough so she could close her lips over it. She applied a gentle suction, looking up to see his eyes flutter closed, his mouth slightly open. Using her tongue, she rocked back and forth underneath the head of his dick, cradling the frenulum. He groaned at the sensation, his hips moving again, riding the tunnel her breasts made between the press of her hands.
“Oh baby,” she whispered, arching her back for more. “Does that feel good? You like your cock between my big tits?”
Doc bit his lip, grabbing a bar of soap and waxing up his shaft and fucking her harder in response. The wet froth of the soap and his pre-cum mixed, churning sweet cream in her cleavage. Carrie’s hands got all soapy, too, her tits overflowing with suds, making it harder and harder to keep up good friction for his cock. He stopped for a moment to lean down and kiss her, sucking her tongue into his mouth, slapping his dick against the swell of her breasts.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he murmured against her lips, teasing her nipples with his cock head. “I’m gonna fuck that hot little pussy ‘til you come all over my dick.”
Carrie gasped when he reached down and cupped her mound, the water from the shower pooling there, making the wet plunge of his fingers into her pussy even wetter. She rocked against his hand, forgetting about his cock, forgetting everything but the way her body responded to him, her clit throbbing for release.
“But that’s not all, baby,” Doc whispered hotly into her ear, shoving his fingers in harder, deeper, using his thumb against the ridge of her clit. “Then I’m gonna fuck your tight little asshole.”
She cried out as he slipped a finger down to the tight ring of her ass, clenching in response, not letting him in, but he kept on rubbing, coaxing her gently open, his fingers still working in her pussy, twisting and probing both holes now. Carrie gave in, leaning back on the stool and lifting her legs, putting her feet up over his shoulders, giving him a better angle. He took it, kneeling in the bathtub and drowning himself in her pussy, the water spraying them both now, running over his hair and down his face.
“Doc!” she cried, feeling his finger slip deeper into her ass, just one, the others still doing their work deep inside her pussy. She imagined his cock there, so much bigger, the stretch and burn of him, and she shuddered, knowing it wouldn’t be long and he would be fucking her ass.
“I love your fucking pussy,” he growled, his tongue flicking at the rigid bud of her clit, sucking at the juices of her flesh. Carrie curled herself around him, grabbing onto his hair, her body rocking on the little stool. Doc grabbed her hips to keep them both from toppling it over, his tongue mashing her clit, burrowing his face between her legs, the water cascading down his back.
“Doc! Oh!” She fisted her hands in his hair, rocking up, working for her orgasm. “Make me come!”
He curled his fingers inside of her, the one in her ass pressed deep, and anchored his mouth over her mound, the first flutter of her climax clenching the walls of her pussy. Carrie cried out, letting it overtake her, the hot, wet spasm of her pussy shooting exquisite flares of pleasure blooming through her veins. She clung to him, whimpering as his fingers slowly left her pussy and her ass, his head coming up between her thighs.
He was grinning from ear to ear.
Carrie laughed, putting her arms around his neck as he leaned in to kiss her, half standing now. She tasted the hot musk of her pussy on his tongue and she lapped at it, drinking it in, wrapping her legs around him as he positioned himself between hers. His cock was in her before she knew what was happening, his aim so good it made her cry out in surprise.
“Oh fuck baby.” He stopped as he bottomed out, his mouth crushing hers, his cock throbbing, spearing her so deeply it almost hurt. Her pussy was swollen from her climax, her labia thick and pink and rubbed raw from his mouth. When she reached down to touch him, he groaned, her f
ingers playing along the pulsing veins of his cock, searching for that place where she began and he ended, that delightful point where they were joined.
“Turn over.” He slid out, grabbing her hips and pulling her to standing. Carrie let him maneuver her onto her hands and knees on the stool. It was an uneasy perch, but Doc wasn’t hearing any of her protests. He was searching for entrance, the hot, mushroom head of his dick making a hot trail between her thighs, seeking deeper heat.
“Yes!” She cried out when he found her center, invading her pussy from behind, pulling her hard into the saddle of his hips. Carrie braced herself on the stool for his onslaught and she wasn’t disappointed. His cock pounded her pussy with brutal force, his groans mingling with her own, reverberating against the shower walls.
“Oh Doc, that’s so good!” she gasped, daring to let go with one hand, a dangerous maneuver, but unable to resist the siren call of her clit, pulsating hotly between her thighs. She rubbed herself in time with his thrusts, taking him deep, deeper, again, more, still more, his fierce assault rocking the stool on its legs. “Yes! Fuck! Fuck me hard, baby! Do it hard!”
She loved it, and he knew it—that hot pounding of their flesh together, the wet slap of their bodies, the flex of his thighs against hers, the stroke of his balls against her hand and clit with every new rush of flesh. He filled her completely, her pussy raw and aching already from his stiff invasion. She couldn’t get enough of him.
“I want your ass.” He pulled out quickly, making her squeal in protest, and she glanced back to see him greasing himself up with soap, a handy lubricant.
If she thought she’d been full before...
“Oh! God!” She gasped, her toes curling as he used his thumb against the spongy head of his dick, pressing it against the clench of her asshole. He felt massive, hazardously huge, and she took a deep breath, rubbing at her clit, trying to relax and take him.
“Easy,” he murmured, moving his hips slowly forward. She felt his thighs trembling and she trembled with him, knowing the savage desire he was holding back as he took it inch by inch. “Steady, girl. That’s it. Open it up for me. Ohhhh fuck, yeah, just like that.”
