Watching the Wilsons (Carrie & The Wilsons) Read online

  They’d always been affectionate, it was obvious they had an active love life, but this teasing took it to a whole different level. I wanted to take notes, but it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t forget a second of this night.

  “Finish your drink, baby,” he growled. “And then I’ll have something to eat.”

  “Do you want a sandwich?” She blinked up at him and giggled.

  “You’re too cute when you drink, baby. Bottoms up.” He stalked across the room as she lazily appraised his awe-inspiring torso. Now that he was out of the way, I could secretly return the favour. She was stunning. Soft all over, smooth pale curves that flowed in and out with organic ease. Her nipples were small and dark, a blazing contrast to her skin, and hard. That was obvious even across the dim room.

  I thought of my own nipples, tight and swollen under my t-shirt. They were puffy and almost flat, a pale pink that blended into my skin. We couldn’t look more different, and I wondered if Mr. Wilson would like my nipples. Would he have a preference, or is nipple diversity a good thing in group sex?

  I flushed. The book had skewed my grasp on reality. If they saw my nipples, they’d probably call my parents. No reason to, I was over the legal age limit. I was offended about something that had only happened in my head. I needed to get a grip for more than one reason.

  “So you don’t mind? About earlier?” she asked him as he strode back, carrying her bra.

  He stopped in front of her, blocking my view, but I could tell from his gestures that he wanted her to turn around. “Baby, I think you kissing another woman is the hottest thing in the world. You don’t need to apologize for that.” I hissed in a breath. She didn’t. Holy crap. And...who? “I like it when you get drunk and slutty.”

  He’d turned her around again, her back to the wall. His larger body loomed over hers, and his hands looked like they were everywhere at once. He was kissing her, holding her face, but also unbuttoning her jeans. He shifted, sliding his thigh between her legs, and with a jerk he moved her up the wall a bit. She was grinding against his leg, and he must have been thrusting against her as well, although I didn’t see any movement in his legs. The planes of his back were flexing, though, flashing in the lamp light.

  I hadn’t realized he’d gotten her jeans off until her bare legs wrapped high around his waist and he spun around, carrying her toward the back of the couch. Her shoulders were thrust back proudly, presenting her breasts to him, but she wasn’t teasing. She was bound.

  He’d looped her bra around her upper arms twice, pulling them behind her just enough to remove touch from her arsenal. But since he’d done it, I hadn’t actually seen her say or do anything other than hump against his leg. Now her face was buried in his neck, like she couldn’t get enough of his skin. His smell. His strength.

  I needed to get my hand on one of the bondage books from the box.

  With unerring caution and adoration, he draped her body upside down on the couch. Her hips spread open across the top of the back cushions, her legs hooked over so her feet rested behind the couch.

  “Fucking gorgeous, baby. I love your pussy.” He stood tall between her knees, surveying his laid out feast.

  I was looking at them from the side. Mr. Wilson was in profile, standing behind the couch. Even through his jeans I could tell that he was erect again. I couldn’t see Mrs. Wilson’s face, it was obscured by a throw pillow, but her breasts bounced freely in view, and my mouth watered as I stared at them. Perfectly round when she was tipped upside down, her taut peaks taunted me more than any fantasy I’d ever conjured.

  Mr. Wilson unzipped his jeans and fisted his cock. He worked his hand up and down his hard length, the muscles in his forearm flexing with the action. “Seeing you like this, baby, all trussed up and soaking wet, it’s hard not to fuck you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered in a breathy voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear her. “Fuck me.”

  “Mmmm. I like to hear you beg like that. You don’t want me to lick you? Suck your hard little clit into my mouth? I bet you taste sweet.”

  She whimpered and shifted. I think she was trying to thrust her hips toward him, but with her arms behind her back and him standing between her knees, her movement was largely constrained. That was fucking hot. I didn’t know how to tell Justin that I wanted to be tied up and folded over furniture, but I’d find a way. The Wilsons had no idea they were creating a monster in their teenage babysitter.

  “You want that? Beg me. Use your pretty voice and ask me to lick your pretty pussy.”

  “Lick me,” she breathed. “Make me come and then kiss me so I can taste it too.”

  He chuckled, and slapped his heavy cock against her sex. His hand was blocked by her knee, but from his arm movements I was pretty sure he had let go of himself and was working his fingers inside her. “Oh baby, I’m not going to make you wait for a taste.” He trailed two glistening fingers down her curved belly and across her chest to her eager mouth. I licked my lips as she licked his digits. Was she tangy? Creamy? Musky? I was pretty sure I’d like all or any of those.

  “God, you’re so eager for that. Next time you get drunk and make out with a girl, maybe you should go down on her before we come home.” That would be so hot. I closed my eyes, trying to picture Mrs. Wilson finding a dark corner at a club and sinking to her knees.

  “Or we could bring her home with us.” Not hot. A stab of jealousy ran through me. I wanted to step into the hall. I’m right here. Take me. But I knew they wouldn’t. We’d all be embarrassed. Their private moment would be revealed, and I’d be rejected. Maybe we could work toward that at some point in the future, but it wouldn’t happen tonight.

  I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, willing my heart rate slower. I should climb back into bed. I didn’t know how I’d look at them in the morning as it was without them seeing all of my secrets, some of which were actually their secrets.

  Mr. Wilson was lazily fingering Mrs. Wilson. Their conversation had faded away and he was staring at her with blatant hunger. They’d been married for more than a decade and he still wanted her. She apparently wanted him and some chick from the club. She let out a louder gasp, and he folded over her body, squeezing her tits hard before sliding one hand across her mouth.

  “Shhhh. Baby, you gotta bite your lip, okay? If you make another loud noise I’m going to take a break and go make a sandwich.” He chuckled, but I didn’t think he was kidding. Her boobs bounced as she nodded, and he pushed back from the couch, giving himself some space to lean over and brace his forearms on the back of the couch. He hooked his hands under her knees, gripping the outside of her thighs as he spread her wider still.

  As his head dipped between her legs, I could only imagine what exactly he was doing. It was almost like information overload, and I blanked. Instead, I fixed my attention on his knuckles, white with effort. A puckered pink scar on her knee. A faint tan line on his bicep.

  Her breasts, bouncing gently.

  Her arching back.

  Her abdominal muscles, flexing and releasing, then flexing and holding--

  “Baby, you gotta breath,” Mr. Wilson gasped, and as he lifted his head, so did I. His chin glistened with her juices.

  She writhed and mumbled something I couldn’t hear, and he responded by slapping her pussy lightly.

  “Come on my face. You taste so fucking good. Come on my face and then I’ll fuck you.” He returned to his task, but this time he shifted his hands under her ass, lifting her higher and her thighs dropped, resting on the top of the couch. I still couldn’t see her pussy, really, but I had a much better angle to see him, seeing it. I’ll never forget the look on his face in that moment. For all his posturing, he was totally undone by her. He’d wanted to go to their room, and she’d wanted...

  Why had she wanted to stay in the living room?

  A thrill rocketed through me. I didn’t want to give voice to that idea, but it was there, germinating away.

  He kissed her again, between her legs, and it
was just like a kiss. His parted lips to her pussy lips, his tongue flat and sweeping with each devouring slurp. He turned his head from side to side, as if he was trying to find the perfect angle for his open mouth to consume all of her cunt. As if feasting could mask that he was in her service.

  Her thighs trembled, and I thought of my own orgasms earlier. She’s close. He redoubled his efforts, his fingers sliding in and out of her, the muscles in his arm working feverishly and in concert with his mouth to push her over the edge.

  He moved over her like a game cat, sleek and big and intent on his prey. My breath was faint, an afterthought as I sat in the shadows, watching with baited breath through a crack in my bedroom door. And as I took in the scene in front of me, I stepped outside the intensity, beyond the sheer hotness of it, forgot that I was turned on, and had a major "what the fuck" moment.

  Mr. Wilson tied up his wife. With her bra. And flipped her upside down on the couch, then proceeded to eat her out. Which he was still doing, at that moment, while I crouched on the floor and watched.

  My neighbour. Who often shares a beer with my dad after they mow their lawns at the same time on Saturdays. Who I used to babysit for regularly, and still, as of this evening, babysat for occasionally. The guy who works at the college I'm going to attend next year. Thank god he's not my teacher. I'd do my damnedest to get him into all kinds of naughty trouble.

  Fuck. This trip had turned me into a nympho.

  Wasn't that what I wanted?

  A few short hours earlier I'd been looking for a board game to play with kids.

  Holy crap.

  A low keening sound jerked my attention back to the living room, just in time to see Mrs. Wilson wrap her legs around her husband's head and grind his face into her pussy. He squeezed her thighs and growled what sounded like a sound of appreciation, then smoothed his hands up over her hips and pressed them flat against her lower belly. Even from this distance and with the lower lighting, I could tell she was quivering from head to toe. He eased himself to a stand, then slid her sideways, over the side of the couch, and moved around the far side to join her.

  "Baby, that was fucking beautiful," he muttered, staring down at her. He leaned over and after a brief movement, flipped her bra in the direction of their room. "Need your arms free to hold on to me. Gonna take you now. Want all of you."

  "You've got me," it sounded like she breathed, but I couldn't be certain.

  "Do I?" It sounded hard, but his face was 100% love. "A part of you isn't wishing there was another pussy here with us right now?"

  Her response to that was even quieter, but I could guess.

  "Of course it does. But I like to know that this is primary. That this--" he lifted her hand at the same time as he unzipped and dropped his pants "--is what you need. You can want anything else, as long as you need my cock."

  "I do, baby. I need your cock." She scrambled to her knees and wrapped two hands around his straining erection. As she twisted into position, she let go of it for a second and instead of waving around it the air, it hung heavily to the side, against his leg, and I longed to be there next to her. A drop of drool slid out the corner of my mouth. I wanted to taste it. I wanted to know his smell and feel his heat inside my mouth. I wanted to tussle with Mrs. Wilson for whose face he'd cum all over.

  She stroked him for just a minute, then he muttered something about needing her mouth on his mouth, and he sank to the couch, pulling her into his lap and kissing her hard. His hands fisted into her hair, pulling face against his, and from her rise and fall, adjusting position, I was pretty sure she'd just slid him inside her. They were consuming each other, and it was shifting rapidly from hot to sweet, from a titillating peep show to an invasion of privacy.

  The glimpse into his concern about sharing her was unexpected. I wondered if either of them had cheated before. I was invisible enough growing up that I'd heard all about the relationships around the neighbourhood, some had survived, others hadn't ... my mother had said more than once that she didn't think any relationship hadn't been touched by cheating in one way or another, and it hadn't occurred to me before, but it was definitely on my mind at that moment...who had cheated in my parents' relationship?

  Crap. I couldn't move without risking being discovered, and while I thought it was hot for them to want me to join them earlier, this moment could not be interrupted. Not when they were wound around each other so tight that they could be confused for a single round ball of self-pleasuring flesh.

  "I love you," she whispered, leaning back, and just like that, they were two again, and I was once again riveted. His big hands supported her as she rocked up and down, riding him. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was open and her entire body was covered in a damp sheen. She was gorgeous.

  They were in love. And a little bit, I was in love with them, too.

  Friday Morning

  “That’s enough bacon,” Mrs. Wilson tapped her husband’s hand and he growled in mock outrage.

  “We’re on vacation!”

  “Doesn’t matter. I want to grow old with you. A heart attack would mess up that plan.”

  He rolled his eyes, but set the piece of breakfast meat down anyway. “Okay. Mom’s right. This vacation is all about being healthy, kids. So who wants to hit the slopes?”

  I didn’t. I was secretly hoping they’d all head out and I could spend the morning buried in a dirty book. I fell asleep as soon as I crawled back to bed the night before; I wanted to know how the schoolgirl novel ended.

  The kids, on the other hand, were halfway out the door before Mr. Wilson even had his outer gear on. “I guess we’re heading out, Ellen. You’ll find us on the slopes?”

  She nodded and crossed the room to give him a sweet kiss goodbye. He wrapped one arm around her waist, tucking her tight against his body just for a second, and if I hadn’t been sitting behind her, I wouldn’t have seen his hand slip under the waistband of her yoga pants.

  But I was, and I did. A little grope meant so much more after what I’d seen. My imagination could do a lot with that touch.

  After the door closed behind her family, Mrs. Wilson drifted back to the table. She smiled at me as she picked up her coffee mug. “Nice to have a quiet moment together, isn’t it?”

  I grinned. It really was nice.

  “Looking forward to going back to school next week?”

  I nodded and filled her in on my classes. I was only taking three. I had a spare last period, which meant I was home by mid-afternoon.

  “Are you lucky enough to have a boyfriend with afternoons off too?” She giggled at the rapid spread of pink across my cheeks. “It’s okay, Carrie. It’s just us girls.”

  Holy crap.

  I cleared my throat and told her about Justin. Instead of veering into a potentially creepy seduction scene, though, Mrs. Wilson gave me some awesome advice, and when I looked at her with a bit of doubt, she reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

  “Sweetie. I get that this isn’t something you can talk to your mom about. And friends...well, their advice can sometimes be like the blind leading the blind, right? So if you need to chat? I’m right next door.”

  I nodded. That actually was reassuring. And I was going to need to debrief with someone after I tried out some new moves. Not in too much detail, but still.

  We pottered around, tidying the breakfast dishes, and then she told me she was going to hit the slopes after checking her email. I said I might want to hang back and have a nap, and then I headed to my room.

  I didn’t pull out the schoolgirl novel, though, I wanted to wait until she was out of the condo. And I’m glad I waited, because a few minutes later, Mrs. Wilson was in the doorway.

  “Carrie?” She pushed the door open a bit more and hesitated. “Thank you for sending me that picture of us.”

  I rolled to my side and grinned. “That was a good day. It’s been an awesome vacation, thank you for bringing me along.”

  She smiled. Her eyes were bright and her ch
eeks were flushed. She looked nervous. “I noticed that you sent it late last night.”

  Shit. Heat flooded my limbs. It felt like a baby gorilla was sitting on my chest. “Uhm.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered.

  “Uhm.”

  “It’s okay if you were still awake when we got home.”

  THE END

  Letter to My Readers

  If you enjoyed this glimpse into Carrie’s coming of age story, please share or recommend this book to others. If you email me ([email protected]) a link to your honest review, I’ll send you an ARC of my next ebook.

  Later this summer, we’ll jump ahead a year to Carrie’s next visit to the Wilson’s holiday condo. She’s older, more confident, and this time, there’s no babysitting to be done. On the next page is a teaser; more can be found on my website, naughtyyoungbecky.wordpress.com. If you bought this book on Amazon, take a minute to visit my author page there and subscribe for an auto-email on new releases. I’ve done this with my favorite authors, and it’s a brilliant tool - no spam, either!

  Finally, I’d like to give you an idea about what I’m working on for the future. The first project is a novella about a university student who escapes to her grandmother’s trailer park for the summer, and the electrician who is temporarily living next door. Older guy, hot summer nights, and a black string bikini. The second is a follow up serial to Watching the Wilsons and A Week With the Wilsons, about Carrie. I can’t give too many details away this point, but I’m planning at least five additional Carrie stories!

  Thank you for joining me on this new adventure!

  Naughty Young Becky

  Preview of A Week With the Wilsons

  Friday

  Mr. Wilson worked at the community college where I was studying. He wasn’t an instructor, he worked in the finance department, and in the first seven months of my freshman year I had yet to see him on campus. The night before we left, however, Mrs. Wilson called and mentioned that they wanted to leave early, if possible, to beat traffic out of the city. She gave me her husband’s office number and I told her I could meet him there at noon, after my last class.