Copyright 2000 Manjaro
No part may be reproduced in any form without explicit written permission.


Raymond and Teresa Quartraro seemed like your average nice neighbor couple when I moved in next door. Maybe they were more attractive than most thirty-something’s. For the first few months I lived in my house I used to see them working outside on the weekends, and we’d exchange pleasantries. A couple of times I had used the gate in the fence between our backyards to pop over and lend a hand when I saw they could use one. Otherwise, we went our separate ways.

That winter, snow was falling thickly and winds were howling like banshees the morning I stumbled on to Raymond’s and Teresa’s dirty little secret. I found myself helping Teresa out of a jam. The details aren’t important except that she was on the verge of hypothermia when I got her into my place. Half-carrying her to my guest bathroom, I ordered her into a hot shower and started some tea for her. While water boiled, I hurried to put my ear to the bathroom door. I could hear the shower. Wisps of steam worked their way under the door.

"Are you OK in there?" I shouted. She had been shivering uncontrollably when I had brought her in. I feared she might lose consciousness.

"I’m alright." Her words were weak but audible.

"Listen, I’m going to leave a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt on the floor right here. I’ve got tea on, or I can make coffee."

"Tea." Voice a little stronger.

About ten minutes later she entered my kitchen hugging herself as if to still the shivers that continued to beat a path up and down her frame. I fixed her tea the way she indicated she liked it and set it before her on the table. Then I sat across from her and watched her sip from her cup. Finally, she looked up.

"Thank you soo much, Jack. I thought I was going to die out there."

"Do you want to explain how you happened to be outside in ten-below wind chill in your nightgown?" I asked quietly.

"Can I have more tea, please."

"Sure, but Teresa, you don’t strike me as a moron or suicidal. What happened?"

"Jack, can I please tell you about it some other time? I really, really appreciate your help, but I just don’t want to talk about it right now, OK?"

I am such a sucker for women in trouble. I could no more refuse her appeal than I could fly into the sun. But, I’m no fool either. It was obvious far more was going on here than met the eye. Her next words told me I was on target.

"Jack, please don’t tell Raymond about helping me or about my being here."


"Please, Jack."


"He’s funny about things. He gets jealous…and stuff."

"He did this didn’t he?"

"Jack, I promise I’ll explain…later. Please?"

Reaching for her cup, I motioned an offer for more tea. She nodded. For just a moment we looked at each other intently. It struck me how lovely and vulnerable she looked. I wondered for the millionth time how guys could be so cruel to women, especially women like this one.

Steeping her tea I speculated if there was anything I could do. Kick his ass and warn him not to harm her again? Been there, done that, odds not so good… shit! When I brought her cup this time I went to her side. For just a moment I rested my hand on her shoulder.

"Teresa, I won’t say anything this time. If there’s anything I can do, you know where to find me, okay?"

She placed her hand over mine and gave me a little squeeze.

"Thanks, I owe you, Jack"

"Yeah, right."

Without too much trouble I was able to get in her house and unlock her front door.

Through my window I watched her make her way through the snow to her place. Later, I found a plastic grocery bag on my back deck. Inside, with the clothes she’d borrowed, was a note:


You are a kind and sweet man. I am so lucky to have you for a neighbor.


About a week and a half later, on a much nicer day, coffee was brewing, and I was just sitting down to the newspaper when I heard tapping on the slider to the deck. Indy came racing out from the bedroom to see if another cat or a squirrel was invading his territory. He lost interest as soon as he discovered it was just a human.

I didn’t lose interest. I was surprised as hell to see Teresa waiting for me to open the door!

"Hi, Teresa. I haven’t seen you…in a while. How are you doing?"

"I’m doing okay, you know," she said with a small smile.

"Can I get you anything? I’ve got coffee going."

"Coffee sounds good. Where are your cups?

"Teresa, sit down. I’ll get the coffee. How do you like yours?"

"Jack, let me do it, OK? Last time you did all the serving. It’s my turn." Another small smile tried to light up her face.

"Okay, cups are right there. I like mine black. Coffee, not cup."

Teresa got our coffee, sat down, and cleared her throat. This was obviously a prelude to something she considered difficult, but I couldn’t let her start without finding out where Raymond was.

"Oh, he works rotating shifts, so his hours vary from one week to the next."

"So, the answer is he’s at work."

"Yes," she laughed.

"Hey, you look great when you laugh. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?"

Teresa was feeling relaxed.

"I made you a promise and I’m here to keep it." With that, Teresa went on to explain the complexities of her marriage to Raymond, including his need to utterly control her. In her effort to present a balanced accounting she told me some of Raymond’s finer qualities as well as describing his means of punishing her when he perceived she was not being a good wife. She was quick to point out that her husband didn’t beat her, he just did mean and spiteful things to her. He wasn’t really "bad". When I asked how her being locked out in the cold dressed only in her nightgown played into all of this she hesitated.

"Well, he was madder than usual. It’s the first time he’s ever done anything that could hurt me seriously."

"Teresa, has he always been this way, or is he getting worse?"

She couldn’t answer confidently either way.

I kept silent during her story for the most part, even when I felt she was deluding herself or otherwise shading the truth. Getting her story out seemed a good idea on its own. As I listened I observed her carefully. My attention was drawn to her not only by her words, but by the way she moved her hands when she spoke, by the light reflecting from her shiny, jet black hair, by how her lips formed words, by the contrast of her caramel complexion with the cream of her sweater, by the swell of her breasts, and by her long dark lashes.

"Careful, Jack," a voice inside warned. My distraction was not so strong that I couldn’t begin to get a feel for what kind of person she was. I realized she was a pretty decent human being.

When she was done, she looked to me for a reaction.

"Hmm, Hon, I think your husband does not deserve you. Why don’t you leave him and find someone who appreciates you?"

"It’s not that simple, Jack."

"Of course it’s simple. It’s just not easy sometimes."

"Jack, ...never mind."

"Okay, I’m sorry. Thanks for sharing all of that..."

"Let me get you some more coffee."

"That would be good."

So we declared a truce of sorts. I wouldn’t nag her about her marriage and she wouldn’t ...what? It seemed she had outmaneuvered me.

We talked about other things. She told me about family and school, work, and sports that she liked. I filled her in on my life to that point. We laughed, commiserated over down times we’d had, and kind of just got to know each other. I liked her.

A routine of sorts developed. Every 7 to 10 days Teresa would pop in for coffee. She always insisted on serving. I teased her that she was the most attractive waitress I had ever had. There was no coffee like Teresa’s coffee. Little did I know then! I finally told her to stop knocking and just come on in. My door would remain unlocked for her.

"What if you’ve got another woman here," she asked impishly.

"Ah, come on in and join us," I cracked.

Teresa laughed. A real, open, hearty laugh.

As time went on, it was so pleasant. I’d be doing the usual morning routine and, voila, Teresa would waltz in smiling. By this time she knew where all of my vast collection of mugs were, plus the sugar, milk, etc. She’d whip my coffee up better than I could (how do women do that?)

We’d sit and talk, or sometimes not. Sometimes we would both read the paper, commenting on the news every so often. I was totally comfortable with this lovely young woman. It seemed good for her, too. Once she told me that our little sessions were like a mini-vacation. She was so sweet.

Then one morning, I woke up and something was wrong! Usually I rocket out of bed, if I’m not hung over or short on sleep. Today I felt blah. I lay there dozing on and off for who knows how long.


"Huh?" I must have dozed off again.

"Jack? Where are you?"

"Teresa? I’m in here, wait a second." Before I could hop out of bed she stepped into my bedroom.

"Oh, Jack. I’m sorry. Do you know what time it is? I thought sure you’d be up by now."

"No, no, that’s alright. I should have been."

"Jack, stay right there. I’m going to serve you coffee there. You deserve some special treatment. You can relax and have your coffee in bed, like royalty." She actually came over and fluffed my pillows so I could sit up comfortably. Was I still asleep?

"I’ll be right back. Your coffee maker’s already done its job."

It couldn’t have been more than two minutes before she walked back in with a steaming cup for me. I’d just made it back into bed from taking a quick sip of Listerine. Sitting there with the covers pulled up to my waist, I took the cup from her hands.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" Big smile on her face. Surreal!

"Uh, no, this is fine." Where was this going?

"Is your coffee OK?"

"Yeah?" I was gesturing the question now. Teresa walked to the far side of the bed, my left, and undressed. She did this so quickly my jaw barely had time to drop.

"Teresa, what are you…"

"Jack, hold me." She slipped into bed and under my arm to rest her head on my chest. I moved to set my cup on the end table. Curiously, she stopped me.

"Jack, drink your coffee and hold me. I just want to snuggle against you and relax." Well, what in the hell was all this about? Was Teresa some kind of tease? Maybe she did just want me to hold her. It would have been very pleasant were I not trying frantically to figure the angle. She slipped her right arm behind me, her left palm resting on my abdomen, right cheek almost touching my left nipple. Hell, now it was very pleasant!

"Jack, this is so nice. I can’t tell you how good it feels to be held by someone who cares about me." Okay! Friendship is great, but I was acutely conscious that neither of us had any clothes on. Just what kind of friend was I supposed to be? I sipped my coffee, watching her fingers wander along the dark trail of hair on my belly that led upward to the silver field covering my chest. Her nails scratched lightly through to the skin under my fur, then began backtracking. My manhood began to stir like a well-fed python, languid, but dangerous. "Friend" was struggling to keep his place in the world.

Her fingers became intrepid explorers, boldly tracking beyond their original starting point, slipping into the dark, warm world beneath the covers. I felt their footsteps.

I moved once more to put my cup on the table.

She half-whispered, "Jack, don’t move." Fearing to break the spell, I froze. Fingertips grazed my hair, probing lightly below and around. Her warm hand gently cupped my sac, then slipped to grasp my thickening cock, squeezing gently, gauging my breadth and length.

Suddenly she moved downward, throwing the covers back to my thighs, resting her head on my hip. Her eyes became anxious participants in her exploration. Mine ricocheted between her face and her hand on me. At first, they flew open in astonishment, then they slitted as the Beast within me devoured the Friend. Seconds seemed as hours. After a few, her eyes met mine, then she pulled my shaft deliberately to her mouth. Her eyes closed. Her cheek still pressed my hip, but responsibility for exploration had shifted.

I watched her tongue probe the tip of my cock, then her lips encircle me. I sipped my coffee. Teresa felt the movement and opened her eyes briefly to watch me.

"Ummm," she moaned softly, and her efforts became more passionate.

Parallel lines of sunlight, filtered by window blinds, illuminated each caress of her lips. Her raven tresses spilled across my thigh as she pulled the covers completely off me. She moved to settle between my legs, never breaking our intimate contact.

A test! I took another sip of coffee, and again her reaction was as if a hard lover had just entered her from behind.

I had to know, "Baby, stop, for just a moment. What is it about the coffee?"

"Raymond is always after me to suck him. I do it but I hate it. You...taste so good, and feel so good in my mouth. The thought of you casually drinking your coffee, watching me do you like... it’s just so natural, turns me on. I guess I wish I could do it right in front of him, have your big hard cock in my mouth, suck you off, completely, while you enjoy your coffee. It would drive him crazy." Her words were making me throb.

"Move up here, next to me."

She moved to comply, stroking me once more on the way. When she was next to me I leaned over and kissed her. I reached between her legs. I found her soaking. With no resistance I slipped first one, then two, fingers into her. I withdrew them to taste her, leisurely licking every drop, slowly. She watched with rapt attention. When next I touched her it was to explore that most sensitive spot. Teresa’s response was electrifying! In moments she was thrusting her hips futilely, seeking nirvana. Nirvana, I knew, was now mine to give. She had awakened the Beast, and she was now his.

I teased her, strumming her like a flesh and blood guitar. She became at once my instrument, and her lust was my music. At times I would watch the spectacle of fingers, or my wrist, or the back of my hand, sending waves of pleasure through her. Other times I would kiss her lips. She would nibble or gnaw at me depending on the notes I was playing. Her breathing became ragged, gasps mingled with cries. I finally released her to her climax, granting her almost a half-minute before beginning her next, less urgent, song.

There was no rhythm, only chaos. Pace, speed, pressure, everything, was varied each time she began to get comfortable with a pattern. She learned to dance to it. She learned to love to dance to it. I withdrew once more and knelt up next to her. She stopped, her eyes still closed, waiting for my next surprise.


She opened her eyes. I took a sip. She took me into her mouth.

Later, waiting for Teresa to get me a fresh cup, I wondered if Raymond had been there to see.

Our relationship had taken on a new dimension. The coffee ritual anchored that dimension. Every time Teresa came over she would bring me coffee, and then lavish me with oral attention. It was Teresa’s foreplay. Meanwhile, I took on a coffee addiction unrelated to caffeine.

Making love with Teresa was nothing short of incredible! We both gave much and took more. Intense passion interspersed with tender affection. When our bodies were spent, we talked. As often as possible I’d make her laugh, and her delight was my reward.

Once I observed a large bruise on her right buttock, almost certainly from a kick.

"That’s it, I’m going to rip his fucking head off."

"Jack, if you do that, what we have will end."

Resignedly I said, "I thought I was supposed to be the wise one." Frustration gnawed huge chunks out of me. The thought of us ending surprised me with the force of its pain. I kissed the bruise, willing it to go away.

The last time we were together is still fresh in my memory after eight years. I didn’t know it was going to be our last time.

I could only hold my cup so long. Then I had to set it down and pull her to me. I inhaled her freshness and kissed the top of her head while she drew little circles on my chest with her tongue. I laid her gently on her back, pinning her wrists in a gentle parody of forceful ravishment. My lips began a journey from her neck, tangling briefly with a wild tendril of hair, eventually breaking free to nibble at her shoulder. Releasing her wrists, I slid down to ravage each breast, leaving both equally loved. I stopped at her navel, testing its depth with my tongue. At the thicket between her legs I explored its edges. I combed her with my teeth, then bathed her meticulously before diving into the warm, wet oasis at her center. My hands grasped her firm, warm cheeks. My head rose so I could watch the effects of my kisses. I lifted her to my mouth as one would a bowl of fine wine. Like fine wine, she was intoxicating! She looked at me tenderly, "Jack, I want this to go on forever. I want to chain you here, and feed you and suck you, and fuck with you, forever."

When I had to have her, I let her down and knelt between her legs. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Wrap your arms and legs around me, baby."

When she was secure, I knelt, again cupping her ass, this time to lift and drop her on to my engorged cock. Over and over I pistoned her up and down. Our bodies became drenched with sweat, and other wetness. The slap of wet flesh echoed through the room. The aroma of raw sex permeated the atmosphere. Cries and moans mingled.

We stopped!

I held her tightly, buried deep within her. She opened her eyes. We stared at each other. I took in her hair, plastered to her forehead. I saw her big brown eyes, wide with question and desperation to move on. Her full red lips drew mine. She was never more beautiful! As I kissed her I flexed inside her. She moaned into me. I moved to lick her sweat from her forehead, then I gently kissed each eyelid. When I leaned away she opened her eyes. I flexed again! Her pupils dilated and her nostrils flared. Power surged through me. We started again, each stroke harder, the pace quickening! She held on as if her life depended on it. She began to chant, "Fuck me, Fuck me, Fuck me..." Her words were like irresistible drumbeats that drove me. Veins popped out in my shoulders and arms as muscles cried for rest. We went on and on.

I think, I’m not sure, that she began to cum about the time she started chanting. I’m not sure because I became lost. Lost in sensual overdose, lost in the primal sounds emanating from my chest and lungs. Lost in the world she had taken me to.

Finally, unleashed became the brute. Something like a cross between a growl and a roar escaped me. I tried, for an instant, to channel my entire being across the bridge between us, to become totally in her.

I no longer had the strength to hold her. We separated and lay down next to each other, chests heaving. After a few moments I started to rise to get her a glass of water. She grasped my arm, fiercely.

"What is it, babe?"

"Nothing, I just... didn’t want you to go."

I laughed. "I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right back with your water."

We lay with each other another hour or so, talking, nuzzling, kissing. Only later did I realize Teresa was pensive. Only later, when I had relived every moment of our time together that day.

Four days after that I came home from work to find that my neighbors, the Quartraros, had moved away. Address unknown!

Of the two ways to look at this episode of life, I choose the positive, most of the time.

Postscript: After writing this, I drove to my old neighborhood and parked near the house I had lived in, and loved in. I couldn’t see the gate in back that Teresa used for her visits. The yards look similar but not the same. Different people inhabit the houses. Life goes on. I hope it goes on well for Teresa

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