Howdy Neighbor Ch. 03

I fucked on. I made eye contact with Becky and smiled, spanking Jenny on the ass. Jenny groaned even deeper. Becky ducked her head down under my right leg, using the space created under my knee, and began to lick the side of my cock when it slipped out of Jenny. I was worried it would make me come faster, but it just made me crazier. I tried to get even deeper into Jenny and sped up my thrusting. She came again, and I loved the noises she made.

"She is so wet!" Becky exclaimed.

I was feeling my oats now. "Get ready to switch, Sam!"

He wasn't hard again yet, despite Jenny's frantic sucking. I was getting crazy. I grabbed Becky's hair and pulled her face up next to Jenny's butt. Then I alternated thrusting into Jenny's pussy and Becky's mouth. Hey Sam. Take a look at this!

He was looking! His eyes got big, and his jaw dropped, but suddenly he was hard again. Imagine that.

"Let's switch!" he said.

I was ready. I pulled out and moved around, slipping into Jenny's mouth. Sam recreated my position behind Jenny, even duplicating the spanking. Jenny sucked me so hard I was afraid she might hurt me. Becky moved around and used one hand to tickle my balls and just behind them, and suddenly I let loose. Jenny kept up her suction and made it all disappear. So good.

Sam was now in his own trance. He had found his rhythm, and Jenny was responding to it. Becky moved around and stuck a finger in his behind. I saw the shocked look on his face. "Fill her up, Sam!"

I looked down at Jenny's face. She looked beautiful and evil all at once. She looked up at me suddenly vulnerable and afraid. Becky was watching us, and Sam was thrusting almost spastically.

I was in a whole new and very horny place. I took Jenny's face in my hands and kissed her. "Use that cock, baby! Come for me!"

I cannot describe the looks that passed across her face. Peaceful and then excited. Frantic and then calm. Scared and then triumphant. She closed her eyes and shook with another orgasm. She has the cutest "o-face" on earth! I kissed her again. Becky made one of those adorable puppy noises. Sam redoubled his efforts. Jenny was just about to come again. Then Sam obviously did, pushing into my Jenny with all this strength.

Suddenly Jenny's face contorted in a way I have never seen before. I could see Sam's every thrust and spurt reflected in my wife's face. He finally finished and pulled back, sitting on his haunches, and trying to catch his breath.

Becky was like and evil cheerleader and made a funny sound. "Tim! Time for sloppy seconds, stud!"

I was flabbergasted, but suddenly I was hard again. Sam stood up, and I turned Jenny over on her back, and spread her legs wide, planning to be face to face with her. Unintended consequence number one: I saw her glistening sex covered with fluids, most of which were not mine. Number two: the smell was electrifying. Number three: I want to own that pussy again. Number four: I have never been harder in my life.

I bent to my task. Frankly. I wasn't worried about Jenny having any more orgasms. But I did want to make her forever remember how hard and how deep I came in her, with our neighbors watching. Closely. I put my elbows on the coffee table and got in position to penetrate her. She put her arms on my shoulders and made a funny noise.

But not as funny as the noise I made when I first entered her. Her pussy was on fire! Hot. Steaming hot. Suddenly I realized she was full of another man's come. Certainly, a novel experience for me. I don't know if it was spinal instinct, or subconscious competitive drive, but suddenly I wanted to thrust myself into her like an animal. I visualized all that other fluid splatting out and being replaced by mine.

Her pussy felt so hot I was afraid I was burned. Drive it out! Cool it off! I began to fuck her with maniacal devotion. She bit my neck and wrapped her legs behind me. Somehow that drove me even further around the bend. Becky must have been impressed because she began to caress my ass.

I ground my pelvis against Jenny, driving all my weight into her and through her. Maybe I could still break that coffee table! Slam and crunch, slam and crunch. Jenny made a lot of noise. I think I did too. I just kept fucking her. Finally, Sam and Becky both sat on the couch and just watched. I turned my face to the right and was amazed at the expressions on their faces.

Suddenly I couldn't hold it anymore, and I let loose with all I had. Jenny sobbed with each spurt. So did I. Then we both just held each other and cried.

Becky drew a big breath and said, "You people are scary!"

Sam laughed. "Was that serial or parallel?"

Becky got us all a bottle of water, and we sat back on the couch and chugged them down. Sam spoke first. "You almost went into orbit there, Tim. I remembered some of those intense feelings the first time I saw Becky get it like that.

"It was pretty stressful, all right. I'm sure you know."

He grinned. "Do you remember when I stopped and looked at you before I entered Jenny that first time?"

I had to admit I did. "Yes, you stopped to make eye contact with me, and then went ahead and brazenly shoved your cock in my wife with me watching."

"Yeah! That was the maximum anxiety moment for me. I figured it would be for you too, and I hope you understood that I got through it, and you would too."

Becky turned white. "I can't believe you guys are talking about that!"

I couldn't resist. "Come on Becky, it's just a couple of airhead fuck buddies shootin' the shit. It's not like it was trust or intimacy or anything!" I moved next to her and kissed her.

She shivered. "That was really scary." I guess Becky knew she was next on the hit parade. When we got home, Jenny just held me for a minute, and then shivered. "That was so nasty Tim, I got crazy when Tim took his hot shot in me, and I knew you were next. I had no words to describe it, but I think that is what Becky means by scary. I was out of control for a moment there."

"Isn't that the point?"

"Yeah, but I don't understand what Becky means about not wanting intimacy. I couldn't have done all that if I didn't trust both of them."

I nodded. "Me neither. Maybe Becky just wants to pretend she is not emotionally bonding with us, too, but I think it she is. Just a different kind of bond."

Jenny laughed and then sniffed me and bit my ear. "I may have cooled off a little, but I was hoping for another hot shot"

I was able to help her out. I did tell her I loved her about six times while I was coming in her. Becky would have to get that from Sam.

We got back into our normal routines on Sunday and concentrated on the beginning of the work week. Our Thursday night picnic plans loomed, and soon Jenny and I were driving toward Frisco on 121. We arrived at the address that Hemal had given me to discover what looked like a cross between a bizarre foreign bazaar and a familiar football tailgate party. There were tents and tables, food cooking on smokers and people dancing, speakers playing exotic music, and an amazing variety of people in costumes and jerseys already milling around. Apparently "cricketers" come in all shapes and sizes, and from almost anywhere.

I recognized flags from Australia, India, Jamaica, and South Africa, and I later learned there were also people from Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, and various Caribbean nations. The commonality was they were all high tech types you grew up around cricket and were now living in North Texas. The conversations were full of tech stuff I knew, and cricket stuff I did not: like runouts, wides, bowlers, and overs. By the end of the evening, at least I understood what a "sticky wicket" was. Hemal introduced me to a dozen people in rapid succession, and all had old fashioned business cards in addition to Bluetooth sessions and QR codes. Most of these people had at least one side hustle and were networking and selling at all times. Jenny felt right at home.

Soon the games began. The lights came on and I notice they used a bright yellow ball for visibility. Hemal and her husband Ramesh took us over to their little tent and encampment area, which had a great view and seemed to be the social center of attention, at least on this side of the "pitch" which was where they bowled, not pitched. Ramesh was not in the first "test match", but in the second, so he endeavored to enlighten us on the rules until he had to join his team, of eleven, like football. He sounded like a professor with a very slight accent.

"It's got some rules like American football, and some rules like baseball, but some of the rules are unique to cricket. There are eleven players on a team like football, and one team is in the field while the other is at bat, like baseball. In football there is only one kind of game -- four quarters long and maybe some overtime if there is a tie. In baseball, they have only one kind of game, but they also have double headers and homestands. In cricket there are three kind of games, and each takes a different amount of time to reach a result. We only have time for test matches - the shortest kind."

I got that like baseball, one team was at bat and the other in field, but instead of a home plate and three bases they had two sets of three sticks coming up out of the ground that formed a wicket. I lost the thread on things like twenty overs versus forty overs and test cricket, but watching the competition was a lot more fun than the lecture. The bat had a flat side and looked like a medieval weapon of some kind. Ramesh explained that they did not use the same ball as the professionals did. The real ball was harder and heavier than a baseball, but the yellow ball they used was lighter. But Ramesh was very articulate and fun to listen to, and I felt comfortable with him. Soon his team took the pitch for the second match.

Hemal introduced us to her equally striking looking sister Lata and her husband, Mahivar. Lata had very sharp facial features and very long black hair down to her waist, with elaborate makeup. Jenny kept staring at Lata, such that it was making me uncomfortable. Finally, Jenny said "Are you Gitana?"

Mahivar laughed. "She gets asked that a lot, but my wife is much better looking!"

Lata looked embarrassed but pleased. I grabbed Jenny's arm.

"Who the hell is Gitana?" I whispered.

"She makes hot music reaction videos. I thought everybody had seen them."

I had watched a few of those kind of videos, but never any by a Gitana, and I was less than impressed by the ones I had seen, by someone whose only claim to fame was not knowing that Stevie Ray Vaughn played guitar or being surprised that Phil Collins could play the drums. But I was most impressed by Lata. She was smart and hot, and I bet she could surprise me in many delightful ways.

The conversations swirled around me. I learned that they were building a stadium for real pro cricket nearby, even though the US didn't compete in the World Cup. I gathered that these night cricket leagues were a major socialization nexus for the high tech immigrant set. Jenny seemed to be making lots of acquaintances, collecting lots of cards, and giving them out. Ramesh came back to their tent celebrating a win, and then began a rather loud discussion of COVID with a guy in a tee shirt that said, "Queensland Bulls" and a cap that said, "Brisbane Lions". I presumed he was from down under.

"Even if you are vaccinated, mate, you should still always wear your mask, and keep six foot distance! Protects you from the virus."

Ramesh smiled at him. "Let me ask a question, Bruce. If you were wearing your mask, and six feet away, and I sparked up a Cuban cigar, could you see the smoke, and smell it?

Bruce looked offended. "Bloody right. It would be obvious and stink like crazy!"

Ramesh looked triumphant. "And what actually leads to you seeing and smelling it?"

"The smoke particles reflect light to my eyes, and they also travel in the air to my nose!" he said smugly.

"So, those particles went through your mask and entered your nose?"

"Of course!"

"So, which is smaller? Tobacco smoke you can see, or sub-microscopic virus particles?"

Suddenly Bruce didn't look so smug.

Lata steered us away, asking if we could help load their stuff into their SUV. She had already broken down the tent and packed everything in wicker baskets. Another couple helped us carry their stuff: a big, tall fellow with blonde hair and the kind of skin that burns in the sun but never tans, and his wife, a short, dark and exotic woman with a thin figure and wide hips. Lata introduced us to Lucas Copeland and his wife Elene.

"Call me Pinky! Everybody does!" Lucas exclaimed. "I'll lug the chill bin to the Mange Mover!"

He tossed the ice chest into a Range Rover that also held a folding dog kennel and two water bowls, and a plastic bucket filled with leases, collars, brushes and other dog paraphernalia. "Hemal keeps her utie so full of dog stuff I call in a Mange Mover!"

Lata shrugged it off. "Pinky has a heart of gold, but his jokes sink like lead. He's from New Zealand, and Elene is from Mahe' in the Seychelles." We strapped the rolled up tent to the luggage rack on top, and the picnic baskets just barely allowed the back door to close. Ramesh opened the driver's door for his wife Hemal gallantly.

When it shut, Ramesh spoke to Jenny, "We are so glad you came. Hemal is incredibly happy about her new job and always enjoys meeting new people."

Jenny, ever networking, said. "We must do something else soon." It was all smiles as we departed. There was a lot more traffic on the way back home, and we had a while to talk. Jenny set the tone.

"I have a new theory for relationships in the post virus world. We need to be more open to new things, but also more careful."

That sounded like a decent but contradictory and perhaps non-implementable idea to me. "How exactly do you walk along that fence without falling off?"

"Well, we can make 'work friends' like Hemal and Ramesh, and socialize with them in conventional but limited ways, never compromising your relationship as her supervisor. We can have 'fuck friends' like Becky and Sam, and be a little wild with them, but not too close for emotional comfort. But we also need to meet some more people that don't fit in either category: non-work or non-swing people who we can be really good friends with. I don't want to stay socially distanced forever."

I paused, trying to be cautious. "Aren't we supposed to be looking for one more set of swing friends, too?"

She smiled. I realized she had made me raise the subject. "Who did you have in mind, Tim?" she said impishly.

"I'm still thinking about it. How about you?"

She grinned. "Well, not Bruce from Brisbane, that's for sure! Even if he was wearing a "bull" tee shirt."

The new hires at my job were doing surprisingly well, with Hemal the obvious star, and business was up too. We had them billing all their time almost immediately. My boss was happy, and my workload was now mostly management and a lot less troubleshooting. I would still get called in when things bogged down, but I tried to be Socratic and ask the right questions to make people see the problem themselves. That usually meant they could solve it the next time without me. But it did change the character of my day, in that I was more stressed by management decision making than I had been with technical problems, and the stakes, sometime involving people's careers, seemed higher and more critical. I looked forward to weekend relaxation and stress reduction more than ever.

Jenny loved her new job, doubly because of the increased cut of commissions now that she had many more salespeople reporting into her group. We went to the cricket matches again, and saw most of the same people, and a few new ones, and we felt comfortable there. Jenny even saw it as a recruiting venue for more salespeople, as she was always looking for good ones.

The next week, we got a dinner invitation, the first post pandemic one besides Becky and Sam's, from Lucas "Pinky" Copeland and his wife Elene. No connection to work, so maybe we could cultivate them as some new "hangout" friends. We arrived at their address in Coppell to find an older, smaller house on a much bigger lot than the newer mini mansions around it. It was two stories high with a very traditional look and was surrounded by elaborate and obviously custom metal fencing and formal garden flower arrangements all around. Elene greeted us at the door.

"Welcome! Pinky is in the backyard cooking on the grill. Would you like something to drink?"

We both accepted a glass of hibiscus infused iced tea. Pinky was on the giant patio, which was at least as big as the house, and surrounded by an elaborate metal fence, which also matched the decorations on the giant barbecue grill. It looked like a giant turbine engine from a jetliner mounted on wheels, with multiple sections for charcoal fires, gas fires, and a wood fired smoker area. A large swimming pool complete with bubbling fountain lay inside another elaborate metal border, surrounded with huge powder coated metal planters full of flourishing rhododendrons and azaleas, which might not have survived in the native soil here. The unassuming house hid an extravagant backyard.

Elene swept her hand across the vista we beheld. "Pinky is a bit of a showoff with his welding projects. If he didn't do it all himself, the backyard would have cost more than the house! But it is fun to entertain out here, and he is such a nice man that I can't complain."

They were quirky but very nice, and we felt relaxed and comfortable with them almost instantly. The conversation flowed easily, with Jenny using her marketing interview skills to gather more information on them. Pinky was indeed a welder, but hardly a normal one. He made complicated high tech stuff, for firms that made semiconductor equipment, rocket engines, and other high tech manufacturing machines, and most of his welding was in non-oxygen atmospheres and involved expensive and potentially toxic materials. He was really a metallurgist and materials scientist who was also a craftsman.

Elene had also been quite modest in referring to herself just as a nurse. She was part of an elite heart transplant team that did tedious high risk and high pressure surgeries, and she was therefore in great demand. The conversation went on well after dinner, and we felt completely comfortable helping them clean up the kitchen afterward. Pinky did not hesitate to talk politics, either.

"If one can identify as either gender, perhaps I could have just identified as vaccinated, instead of going to Elene's hospital to get jabbed! I also identify as a person of color. Pink!"

Jenny giggled, which just encouraged him. Later the conversation turned to home medical remedies, and "folk medicine" and he opined, "If the water really remembers the shape of the molecules, why hasn't anybody made a fortune selling homeopathic recreational drugs?"

When we finally bid them farewell, Elene hugged and kissed both of us quite warmly.

Pinky smiled when he saw my expression. "You know what they say about surgical nurses, eh, Tim? Tightly controlled at work and wild when off duty!" Neither one of them had seemed the least bit shy to me.

When the door closed behind their dinner guests, Pinky caressed his wife's butt and said playfully, "Maybe next time we can convince them to stay for brekkie, eh baby?" Elene just smiled.

Jenny cleared her throat noisily as we drove away, which usually means she is starting a discussion she is a little uncomfortable with.

"Did you think Elene was a little too affectionate, Tim?"

I grinned at her. "Actually, I thought it was just right, for a first date."

Jenny wore a bemused expression. "I didn't see that coming, but I felt it too."

"So much for the theory about separating friendly comfortable people from fuck buddy people."