Start your review of The Baumgartners Plus One Baumgartners, 1 Write a review Shelves: favorites , first-person-narrative , 4-star-still-favorites , hot-as-hell , married-established-couple , poly-romance , no-angst-low-angst , weak-plot-no-plot , grief , threesome-menage-a-trois Danielle Stuart and the Baumgartners are neighbors. Carrie Baumgartner and Dani become friends, soon lovers. A fully-clothed Carrie Baumgartner would have been pretty hard to ignore, let alone a topless, unbelievably bronze one, completely covered in coconut-scented oil. Come on, Dani.
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But what was I supposed to do when someone started sunbathing nude right outside my back door-just close the blinds? Besides, a fully-clothed Carrie Baumgartner would have been pretty hard to ignore, let alone a topless, unbelievably bronze one, completely covered in coconut-scented oil.
The stuff was so strong I could smell it from the window. Instead, I was a very bad girl. She was so sexy, even fully clothed just passing me on the way to the mailbox, that her presence alone practically bordered on pornography. She probably would have made a ninety-year-old man remember what other function his cock was made to perform, aside from peeing the bed.
She certainly made me wish for a moment that I had one myself, just so I could imagine it inside of her. Our backyards were tiny little postage stamps and only semi-private. There was a black, wooden head-high sort of half-fence at the end of all of the apartment yards, but instead of a divider between each, there was only a divider between every two, as if these one-story apartments had been connected or meant to connect at some point.
And I mean everything. I watched her drizzle oil over the copper colored flesh of her belly, her hands kneading it into the sloping curve of her ribs and onto the generous swell of her breasts, brazenly bared to the sun. I stayed quiet, swallowing my breath, as her palms made slow, lazy circles over her nipples and then dipped gently into the hollow of her throat, her slender, buttery fingers stroking her neck down to her collarbone.
I heard her sigh and saw her hips shift as her hands moved downward once again, lingering on the fullness of her breasts. She was so beautiful I could barely breathe, her hair spilling like honey against the navy blue blanket, her limbs long and shapely. I bit my lip when she pinched her nipples, hearing her again, a soft cry. I ducked when she sat up on her elbows, sliding her dark glasses down so she could peer around.
It was nearly noon on a Monday, the late August sun high and bright, still hot although it was moving steadily toward autumn. The kids were back in school just this week, the neighborhood quieter than it had been all summer.
She glanced around and thought she was alone. At first, I thought she was going to take those off too, but when her hand moved under them, fully between her legs, I understood. Breathless, I watched as she began to touch herself, occasionally glancing around, worried she might get caught, that someone might walk by. Our little one-story apartments backed up to a small, wooded area. We were alone, she and I, two women longing for something, looking to ease a sudden, throbbing ache.
But, as my mother would also attest to, I rarely did the things I should do in life. And I wanted to watch. I was wearing jeans, too confining, but they were quickly unbuttoned and unzipped. I sought my own heat, my pussy moist, still shaved smooth the way Mason liked it.
I shoved that dark thought away and turned my attention to the luminous visage of the woman writhing on the lawn next door, taking her own unabashed pleasure.
Her hand moved rhythmically under the stretched crotch of her bikini bottoms, her face turned toward me. The dark sunglasses she wore kept her eyes from me, but I saw the part of her lips, the way the pink tip of her tongue slipped out and licked them.
Her chest moved with her increasing breath, her breasts rising and falling, faster and faster. I teased it to life, back and forth, round and round, my own breath coming faster, my nipples hard under my t-shirt as I pressed close to the wall, straining to see out the window.
The blond on the blanket flicked and tugged at her own nipples. They were brown and hard, like my own, although I was far paler than she and her breasts were a little bigger.
We were both pretty well-endowed in that department though, and I cupped my breast though my bra with my other hand as if to check, rubbing my thumb over the ridge of my nipple, feeling the weight of it, wondering what her breast would feel like in my hand-heavy, oily, fleshy.
Maybe I was just greedy, insatiable. I had always wanted more than the world could ever give me. At least, I used to. She bit her lip, her tanned thighs spread and shining with oil, glistening in the sunlight.
I wished then that she had taken her bottoms off too so I could watch her fingers plunging into her pussy, as fast and furious as my own, wishing for a cock, a tongue, something, everything at once.
I arched my back and rocked up and down, back and forth, riding my own hand, my nipples rubbing hard against the windowsill, forgetting myself, forgetting that I was supposed to stay quiet, unnoticed. I pressed my nose to the screen, catching the scent of fresh cut grass and coconut oil, imagining I could smell her too, the pungent aroma of her pussy. Was she shaved, like me? Was she blond down there or dark, I wondered? Just thinking about it was so exciting I had to slow down or I was going to climax right that second.
And I wanted to wait. I wanted to come with her. The sight of her was enthralling, but it was the low, throaty growl she finally gave and the way her head thrashed from side to side as she came that finally sent me soaring.
The Baumgartners Plus One