Neighborly Relations Pt. 04

#

The next night she was able to tell him about her adventures with Emily and a strap-on, filling in the sordid details after he'd tied her up and taken her from behind across the bed until her pussy forced her to stop talking and scream with pleasure.

"I told Emily that I fantasized about having an audience," she told him, between orgasms. "Said I'd like someone to watch."

"Shit, no, really?" Charles sounded appalled, but his cock seemed to become a bit harder at the news. "Why?"

"You know why," she said, trying to see out into the back yard through her always open bedroom drapes. Another orgasm was building so she spoke fast. "And so she can see what a good thing I've got here. So she can, be, be," no use, words failed her again as he slammed all the way into her and prompted a massive orgasm.

Charles moved to her head then, putting his cock into her mouth roughly as she pretended to fight against the rather loose restraints he'd secured her with. She sucked him eagerly, thinking she might have seen movement in the yard. "I'm afraid I'd go all limp if I had an audience," he said.

"They wouldn't be in the room with you, dummy," she said. And he replied by pulling her head back onto his cock by the hair and then throwing her back onto the bed to enter her from behind with powerful thrusts.

Patty rode back on his cock, pumping her round butt back against him as she stared out of the window. There was a movement then, and Emily stepped forward out in the yard so that she was just in the light. She was with her husband, Robert! Knowing about the audience and the fact that it was a mixed party brought Patty to climax almost immediately. That one should be the last one for a while or she'd overload.

"Let me blow you," she said. "I've got to rest my pussy."

"I thought you'd never ask," Charles said, releasing her bonds and lying on the bed.

Patty knelt and took him into her mouth, wanting Robert to see her do it. She could imagine him masturbating as he watched. God, this was so good. Looking outside, she could see them standing just at the edge of the shaft of light that flooded onto the back yard from their bedroom window. Oh, yes, Emily had dropped her pants and was humping her own hand while kneeling at Robert's cock, sucking him just as Patty was sucking Charles.

Patty climbed to allow Charles' expert tongue access to her pussy. The touch of his tongue on her clit was almost too much, but she maintained her rhythm on his cock despite the urge to dissolve in orgasm. Finally, Charles erupted into her mouth and then down over her pumping hand and Patty rolled off to lie panting on the bed.

Patty licked the cum off of her hand, wondering if Robert had filled Emily's mouth out there in the dark yard. When Charles went to the bathroom, Patty scampered to the window and opened it.

"Did you have fun?" she asked, she asked the darkness.

"Oh, yes," Emily answered, coming forward with Robert, who was holding his pants up. "How about you?"

"Great time. Good, I was hoping you'd bring hubby," she said. "Hi, Robert. Nice cock." She nodded toward his half erect member protruding above his pants.

"Hi, uh, thanks."

"Gotta go," Patty said then. "Time for act two. Don't worry about Charles seeing you. He doesn't have his contacts in." She closed the window and returned to the bed just as her husband returned with his cock every bit as hard as it had begun.

Later, she'd tell him about their audience. Not now. At this moment she wanted to fuck her brains out and wish the whole world could be watching.

CHAPTER TWO, An Invitation

It was Patty's exhibitionism the proved to be the catalyst for change in the neighborhood. Previous to that Wednesday in May, when Emily discovered her hobby, the people on the cul-de-sac were quiet, but friendly, tidy, upright, and boring. The Burtons and Petersons were in their fifties, with their children married and gone. The Adams and the Carter families were young families newly arrived with toddlers, and each of them pregnant with a baby on the way. The Mosswells had lived on the street for a little over three years, and, as the only African American family, they had really only just seemed to feel comfortable here. The Porters had lived there for over ten years and were an established presence seen as a sober, intelligent family that could be counted on to keep a low profile and never rock the boat. When the Trents moved in five years earlier they had seemed to be the same.

But then Patty Trent began appearing in her front window in her birthday suit. People began to take notice. They started imagining possibilities. And, after Jenny Peterson saw Emily Porter join Patty Trent in sexual congress right in her front room, she decided it was time to get things rolling.

Jennifer was a robust woman of 52 years with pendulous breasts, an ample but not unbecoming backside, and, what she derisively called "thunder thighs." Back in the day, she and her husband, Daryl, had presided over a rather raucous neighborhood. Four of the families on the street regularly held strip pinochle parties, traded spouses for the night, played "Truth or Dare" and never turned down a dare.

The street was rocking in the 80's, but time moved on, and new neighbors moved in, and Jenny didn't think she'd ever have such dirty good times again. But Patty brought the good times back to mind and got her juices flowing.

And so it was that Jenny Peterson knocked on the Trent's door on Sunday afternoon, with a smile on her face and lust in her heart.

"Come on in, Jenny," Patty said, ushering the older woman into her home. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm just fine. In wonderful spirits," Jenny said, and she grasped Patty by the shoulders and kissed her on her cheek. "I came with an invitation of sorts, but I'm afraid it needs a bit of explaining."

"Sit down. Coffee?"

"Yes, please," Jenny said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. When Patty brought the coffee and sat in her own chair, Jenny asked, "Is your husband around? I didn't see the kids, either."

"They went to a movie," Patty explained. "He's the movie lover in the house. I'm more of a pay-per-view lady."

"Well, it's just as well that they aren't here, dear. Then we can talk freely."

"That sounds kind of ominous," Patty said.

"Oh, no, not at all. But it is a private conversation, dear. Not something for the kids." Jenny sipped her coffee and smiled at Patty before speaking again. "Daryl and I have really enjoyed your housecleaning the past couple years," she said. "It's almost sweet, you see, how innocent you seem doing it."

"Oh, gee," Patty said, blushing. She wasn't worried, however. Jenny had said they enjoyed it, so she wasn't here to complain. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Very much. The whole idea of cleaning house naked is like a throw back to the old Playboy era, when there was some style involved. Nowadays, if a woman wants to display her body, she spreads her legs and sees how many strange things she can shove into herself." Jenny laughed, shaking her head.

"It's very weird to hear you talking like this, Jenny. I guess I've always thought of you as a, well, a . . ."

"An old fart living down the road," Jenny finished. "A grandma, maybe."

"Not an old fart, but, sure, a grandma maybe."

"Years ago, when the first owners lived here, a few of the couples used to get together for mutual satisfaction," Jenny said. "You know, good clean dirty fun."

"What?" Was this really Jenny Peterson talking to her? Patty wasn't sure what she was hearing.

"I guess it was as many as four couples in the group. We played strip poker and traded spouses for whole nights. Sometimes we just piled on and tried to fuck everyone."

"Why are you telling me?"

"Now that you've taken up with Emily Porter, I was thinking that maybe you'd like to join in if we started up again. Swinging, I guess you'd call it, though it sounds silly."

"You saw us?"

"Well, when you draw attention, people will pay attention, and I've got a very good pair of binoculars," Jenny said. She thought of telling her about Danny Porter but decided not to mix into that subject. "And you guys weren't being shy."

"Emily will be so embarrassed," Patty sighed.

"She needn't be," Jenny assured her. "You both have lovely bodies, and I've been working up the courage to stop over and talk to you for a couple months now. You see, I really miss the old days."

Patty sipped her coffee and regarded the other woman with new eyes. Sure, she was a lovely woman, with good skin and no gray in her hair at all. And her breasts? Well, she could well imagine her being very popular in such an arrangement.

Jenny put her cup down and reached to touch Patty's hand on the table. When Patty didn't move her hand, she gripped it more firmly. "I was thinking of having a little party on Tuesday night," she said. "Play pinochle, drink wine. Get naked if it seems like a good idea. Would your husband be interested?"

"Charles? No, I doubt it," Patty said. "Not right now, anyway, but you never know about the future."

"I'll be just ladies, then. A wives' club. That's why I came over, to invite you and your girlfriend."

"Just women?"

"Sure, if your husband wouldn't be interested, that is. Besides, then we can chat a bit," Jenny explained. "You know, enjoy the party before the action. Men just want to put their dick in somebody right away, but women take it easy. And I don't believe that Robert Porter is part of your activities. I expected that Charles must know about you, of course, because he backs the car in so you can run out there some days when the urge gets to be too much, but it I can't imagine Robert as part of it. Besides, Terry Carter can't bring her husband because he's got to stay with the kids, and it wouldn't be fair for him to miss out."

"Terry Carter?" That chipper young pregnant thing at the end of the block?

"Oh, yes, we had a lovely party last Thursday. Just the four of us played strip and dare." Jenny's gaze settled somewhere off in the distance then, looking at the past. "Watching you got us thinking, but before I could broach the subject with you, the Carters popped up like magic. Daryl has always had a thing for pregnant women."

"Wow," was all Patty could think to say.

"I thought maybe I'd grow old and die without playing these little games again," Patty continued. "But my neighbors have turned out to be a whole lot more interesting than I had thought."

Oh, yes, a whole lot more interesting, Patty thought after Jenny had gone home. It might be fun to play cards with the other ladies. Maybe, if they played those cards right, they could get their husbands to come along.

But she needed Emily to come with her. It took four people to play pinochle.

#

Though Charles found the news that John Carter and his wife had joined in some kind of sex thing with the Peterson's, he wasn't terribly interested in joining. But he did think that a woman's pinochle party was a great idea. Of course, he would.

"Maybe you can convince Jenny to leave her windows open," he suggested from between her legs. "And lend me her binoculars." Then he pushed her legs wider and lapped his tongue up along her labia to her clit, sending the already gasping woman over the edge so that her legs closed in the spasm of her climax. Charles had already cum, the evidence drying on her chest, and he returned the favor four-fold.

"I'll ask," she said. "Oh, God, honey. You'd better stop. I don't want it to start tickling and ruin it."

He pulled himself up on top of his wife to kiss her before rolling off to her side. "Good," he said. "I was about to get a cramp in my tongue."

#

Emily's reaction was a bit different.

"What? Oh, no. Hell no!" she exclaimed as she sat across Patty's kitchen table on Monday morning. "And she saw us? Oh, hell, that's all I need."

Emily had spent Sunday fretting about her daughter and what she should do about her sneaky perversions. Elaine, her lively 18 year-old, redheaded daughter, had been spying on her parents. Emily had seen her watching her father masturbate-and the only reason she didn't go ballistic on her then was because she didn't want to embarrass Robert with that knowledge. But then she'd discovered that Elaine had shot video of Patty going down on Emily, as well as taking a video of her parents making love, she became beside herself with worry. What was that girl up to? Was she sick?

She wanted to find a way to stop her activities without Robert or her son, Danny, finding out. Why had her daughter turned out to be such a perv?

All day Sunday, Emily could barely look at her daughter and probably didn't speak more than a dozen words to her. How could she?

Now she found out that Jenny Peterson had seen her and Patty and watched them like a TV show. Damn! At this rate, Robert was bound to find out about her girl on girl action. Damn that girl, and damn her for allowing herself to fall into this mess.

"I should never have done this," she said then. "I mean, you and me, watching you from your yard, all of that. It's a slippery slope. I'm so embarrassed."

"Did you have fun?"

"A person shouldn't have to feel this guilty for fun," Emily snapped. "And being with a woman. I shouldn't have given in."

"I didn't twist your arm, girl."

"No, I meant give into my own evil urges. Not you."

"I don't see the problem," Patty said then. "I don't imagine you have to pile onto a lesbian group grope if you don't want to, but you definitely can't play pinochle without at least four people. We'd need you for that much."

"Lesbian. Oh God, I'm not, really, am I?" Emily felt a surge of sorrow inside and fought the urge to cry. "I'm so bad."

"Don't be a dope," Patty said, feeling a bit pissed just then. "Don't lick pussy if you don't want to. Just stick around for dildo fun. I don't see what the big deal is. I mean, Robert seemed to get off on it the other night. Didn't he?"

"Oh, yes, he certainly did," Emily admitted, tears coming even closer now. "But . . ."

"But?" Patty stared at her friend. What hadn't he liked about watching her and Charles screwing through their bedroom window. Why was . . . oh, that was it. "You haven't told him about us," Patty said. "He doesn't know."

"No, he doesn't." Emily admitted, wiping a tear away with the back of her hand. "I just don't know how to tell him, Patty. I don't know what he'll think of me."

An exasperated sigh escaped Patty's lips then. "He'll want to watch, you idiot. If he's willing to go window peeping with you and let you suck him off in a neighbor's yard then you know he's not a total stuck-up prude. Hell, he's your husband. You should know what gets him off."

"But I'm better than that," Emily said. "I'm a mother."

"I'm not better?" Patty snapped. "Christ, I'm a mother, too." She stood then and walked to the sink to rinse out her cup. She didn't trust herself to say any more just then and gave herself time to settle down.

Emily saw the pain in her friend's eyes as she stood, and she immediately moved up behind her and circled her with her arms. "I'm sorry," she said, kissing the back of Patty's neck. "I didn't mean us. I mean that Robert would think I'm better. You know, I don't want to disappoint him."

Patty leaned back against Emily as the other woman stroked her hands down lightly over her breasts and held her closely around her stomach. She savored the perfume tinted warmth of another woman every bit as much as the brawny sexuality of a man.

"Well, you'll have to tell him sometime, and the sooner the better." Patty turned then, kissing Emily's cheek, and Emily returned her kisses.

"Do you want to play cards?" Patty whispered into the main of Emily's auburn hair.

"Oh, yes," Emily sighed. "I can't help it anymore. I might as well enjoy my slide down the slippery slope."

#

Emily didn't tell Robert anything. She glared at Elaine all day Sunday and sat alternating between worry about her own behavior and anger about Elaine.

Seeing how tense she was, Robert suggested that a night with the neighbor ladies was probably a good idea. "It would help you relax," he said.

That comment made her feel so guilty about how she was behaving that she dragged him into their master bathroom and sucked his cock right after supper. She didn't allow any foreplay or allow him to return the favor in any way, but knelt to blow him as she imagined a whore might do. She wanted to find some way to make things better without turning it into a pleasant reward for herself.

Of course, when she felt the warm spurt of his cum in her mouth, she couldn't help a thrill of feeling in her groin. It always turned her on to give him pleasure.

#

Robert spent Sunday with his own worries. He had greatly enjoyed watching the neighbor's screw, and the illicit thrill of screwing his wife in their yard while watching the show was beyond any thrill he'd ever had. But that was the problem. The thrill.

When he was a young man, he used to enjoy watching the neighbors through their windows. It wasn't always easy to get a look, of course, but he usually saw enough between the curtains or under the blinds to get off. Thinking back now, he couldn't begin to count the number of yards where he'd left traces of his DNA. He had especially enjoyed seeing the neighborhood mothers in action. Seeing the other side of his friends' staid mothers and then seeing them the next day, fully clothed and in full mom mode was great. And now his wife had taken him back to that thrill.

He was beyond that now, wasn't he? He was an officer at the bank, a respected member of the community. He could chalk up the incident watching the Trents to his heightened arousal last night, but he hoped that he'd never be as weak as that again. He couldn't afford to be caught in such behavior.

Still, what would he see if he took a turn around the neighborhood? He wondered about the Carters and the Adams women. Pregnant women. That was another thrill he'd tried to put behind him.

And what about Emily? Their sex had always been good, but she'd always been a very proper lady aside from the bedroom. He would never have imagined her peeking, even if she was invited. What had caused her to change?

CHAPTER THREE, Party On

Tania Mosswell was at her front window on Tuesday evening when Patty Trent and Emily Porter walked across the street to the Peterson house. Patty was carrying a paper sack, and the two women were laughing together as they scurried across and entered the house. A moment later, Terry Carter walked past Tania's window and crossed to the Peterson house.

What was going on? A party?

Tania was 44, tall, with skin the color of café au lait, and she was built with ample breasts and enough on the back side to fill a man's heart with nasty thoughts. She and her husband, Robert, were full professors at the university and well respected in their professions. She was satisfied with her standing and her life in general, but there were still nagging doubts about the neighborhood they'd moved into nearly three years ago. Were they respected in their neighborhood?

The Mosswells were the only African American family on the cul-de-sac, and that normally seemed to be no big deal. Their neighbors seemed to treat them just the same as they treated each other, and they were invited to the same back yard parties as the others, too. It was mostly the Trents and Porters who threw parties, though the Petersons had once, too. Nobody stared at them or talked down to them. And (thank God) nobody ever tried to impress them with some kind of urban street talk. It was a nice place.

But still . . .

Tania couldn't help but feel that she was being left out. In their old neighborhood, the people were in and out of each other's houses regularly, and they had a hard time going out in the yard without falling into a conversation with somebody. It had been friendlier there. Of course, that neighborhood had been a majority black suburb. Maybe white people really were more reserved, more stick-up-the-ass than what she was used to.