A Baumgartner reunion

“Oh Janie, oh fuck.” Henry’s whisper made me shiver and I saw the first hot spurt of his cum erupt from the fat, purple head of his cock and explode like some twisted Rorschach against the back of the cabana wall. It was followed by another and another, his hips thrusting forward as he came, his head thrown back in a silent expression of pleasure.

The couple on the beach were too involved in what they were doing to hear him-or me, thankfully, for that matter. Janie was fingering her pussy as she sucked Brian off, and his hands were buried in her hair, shoving his cock deep into her throat. She’d clearly done that before. She could take almost his whole length, and watching it disappear into her mouth was beyond hot.

“Come on!” she urged, her voice thick as she took him out of her mouth to stroke him against her cheek. “Come all over me! Come on! Do it! Do it!”

“Ahhhhh god!” Brian’s hips shifted forward and he did just as she asked, his cock jerking in her hand as he began to come, thick ropes of the stuff hitting her cheek and chin and breasts. I couldn’t stand the tension for another minute, and my pussy spasmed with my own hot, shameful climax, my cheeks flushed and sweaty, my nipples hard and straining under my shirt.

Breathless, I sank to my knees in the soft ground, hidden in the rushes and glad for the cover. I couldn’t believe what I’d just witnessed, what I’d just done. Was this me? Who was I? I thought I knew, but kneeling on the ground, my whole body still trembling from an incredible orgasm brought on by… good god, had I really just watched Janie and her boyfriend having sex…and had I really gone so far as to masturbate while I watched? Had I really just seen Henry watching his sister getting fucked, watched him jerk himself off…and found myself aching to put his cock in my mouth, feel it in my pussy?

Oh god.

When I finally caught my breath and dared to stand up and face the day-

the sun had officially risen across the water-all of them were gone from the beach, as if it had never happened. Maybe I dreamed it, I told myself as I pushed my way out to the sand again and started walking slowly back down the beach toward the house. I wanted to believe it wasn’t real, hadn’t happened… of course I wanted to believe that. Because if it had happened…

Who did that make me? What did that make me?

I wasn’t this girl… this woman. I wasn’t. Was I?

I just didn’t know anymore.

Chapter Six

“Come dance with me!” Gretchen grabbed me and pulled hard, making me yelp. My strawberry margarita sloshed over onto my hand and I licked at it as I stood.

“Where’s Janie and Mrs…uhm, Carrie?” I was getting better at calling Mrs.

B “Carrie” when she was around, but whenever I referred to her, my mouth still wanted to say “Mrs. B.”

Gretchen pointed to the bar where the mother and daughter pair were ordering their own margaritas. We had agreed to this being a “girls night out,” but Janie had stubbornly insisted on bringing Brian at the last minute, and Henry had tagged along, although he was too young to drink. I had no idea where Brian had disappeared to, but Henry sat across from me, arms crossed and frowning as he watched his sister at the bar.

“Want to dance, Henry?” I asked, reaching out my hand as Gretchen began to pull me toward the dance floor. He glanced up at me, his expression one of genuine interest for a moment, but then his attention shifted back to Janie and Mrs. B as they made their way toward the table.

“You go ahead!” He waved us on, and I didn’t have much choice but to follow Gretchen-she was practically pulling my arm out of the socket. The music was live and totally Key West. The band was currently doing a cover of Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville.

“Searching for my lost shaker of salt!” Gretchen’s voice joined with the rest of the crowd as she pulled me close, sliding an arm around my waist and rocking me with her hips. It wasn’t a fast or a slow song, really, hard to dance to, but Gretchen managed, and my body couldn’t help but respond to hers as we swayed together. It seemed less about the dancing and music and more about the interaction between the audience and the band.

“Some people say that there’s a woman to blame…” We sang together loudly, grinning as we changed the lyrics together, on cue. “But you know, it’s your own damned fault!”

We laughed and Gretchen leaned in to whisper, “You look so hot in that…” as she slid a thigh between mine, pushing the black leather micro-mini she’d loaned me up to impossibly shameless heights. “Makes me want to take you into the little girls’ room.”

“You’re bad,” I said, but I was smiling as I turned, wrapping her arms around my waist and rubbing my behind against her front as we belted out another verse of Margaritaville.

“You two are already having too much fun.” Carrie nuzzled up to both of us at once, kissing first Gretchen and then me on the cheek. “How are my girls?”