My Neighbor Ch. 1

Stuffed with his penis that way, I couldn't breathe very well, but just as I was choking, Eddie jerked my head back, and I was able to get some air before he yanked me back down again. I got the idea, and I began to bob my head up and down on my own, raking him with lips tightly sealed around his hard masculine root. It was hardly any time after that before his ejaculation came in a flood. I had only the vaguest idea about what had happened, but my mouth was already full of cock, so there was nothing I could do but swallow the thick white goo Eddie was giving me. I couldn't take it all, tho, and some of his ejaculation leaked out the corners of my mouth, down my chin and onto my bare breasts.

As I sat in my sewing room widow, my finger in my pussy, watching Peter Carr dry his fire hose prick, I could still taste Eddie Farmer's cum. I sucked Eddie off often after that, at least once on every date. Poor submissive little me, I came to love doing it..., so much so I would orgasm just from just having him in my mouth.

It has been such a long time since then, but I haven't forgotten how good those orgasms were, or how much I loved having the flavor and feel of his thick white seed on my tongue. Watching my neighbor wave his dick at me, I had a sudden overwhelming thirst for a creamy load of male jism to swallow. God help me! If it hadn't been such a humiliating thought, I would have rushed right over to Pete Carr's swimming pool and asked if I could please give him a blow job.

I must have stayed at that window watching Carr sunbathe his dick for an hour or more, masturbating myself all the while. Three times I got off on my finger. Finally it began to get dark and he went into the house. Soon, however, I could see him again as the lights went on in the upstairs master bedroom. He made no effort to close the drapes. I had a great view, every bit as good as if I was watching him on of those oversized TV screens, only clearer. Right away, he spread himself on the bed and began to beat off. In due time he shot his load into a towel. I should have pulled down my own shade and quit watching, but I was so mesmerized by that huge cock, and so hungry for it, that I just couldn't bring myself to back away from this inflammatory performance. My hand went back inside my panties for a fourth orgasm.

Even with that release, it was almost more than I could stand to watch this sexy man climax into his towel . God, what a waste. I remembered how Eddie Farmer liked to squirt his load over my face and tits. I know he did it to shame me, but I really didn't mind. He was the great Country Farmer, All-American, and my wonderful boyfriend. He was entitled to take his pleasure from me any way he pleased, and anyway, I loved the taste of his cum that I would scoop off my tits and then lick off my fingers.

Perhaps it was the relationship I had with my father, but all my life I have been titillated with the thought of being a slave girl. I have often masturbated to the fantasy that I am a sexy harem concubine owned by a cruel Arab sheik. His guards lead me naked to his tent by a rope around my neck. There I am made to service the penis of my desert master. He clamps my head between his strong hairy legs and forcibly feeds his great prick into my mouth. I suck him frantically. When at last he begins to ejaculate, he pulls from between my lips and jacks himself frantically. His cum splashes across my face and hair drowning me with his load. White goo drips from my chin onto my neck and tits. Eddie Farmer treated me just that way, and like my imaginary slave girl, I always assumed that cum in my face was the reward I had a right to expect.

As I sit in my window playing with my pussy my desert fantasy closes in on me stronger than it has in years. I can picture Pete Carr as my Arab sheik, straddling my throat, and drenching me with his load. Eddie Farmer was my worst nightmare, but at the same time he was the fulfillment of my every sexual dream and desire. Would I dare to see if Pete Carr might be the same?

NO WAY. Nineteen years ago I became the chaste and proper wife of a respected physician. That is my real world now. I am no longer the concubine of a masterful barbarian stud, nor can I ever be that again. I was wrong to be peeping on this stranger, admiring his penis, and dreaming of the ways he might pleasure me. No matter how it tortured me to watch him, I could only sit there, look, dream..., and suffer.

What I didn't know was that Peter knew I was watching all the time. He has since told me that he beat himself off that day purely for my benefit. He seemed quite proud of himself about it. It was all a part of his style, a cruel game he was playing, and he enjoyed every minute of it..., that bastard! I didn't realize it at the time, but Peter held all the cards in this sad little sexual poker game.

I was in fact, already doomed.

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PART TWO: REBECCA VISIT PETER

After that afternoon, I spent a lot of time in my sewing room. Peter didn't disappoint me. He paraded himself and his oversized sex organ in front of me almost every day. I knew watching him was only making things worse for me but I just couldn't stop myself.

Then, a week or so after his first penis show, Peter added something new. That was the day that Mrs. Rebecca Angle first came to visit my sexy neighbor by his pool. My husband and I know Becky Angle real well. Her husband is the pastor at the Methodist church we attend. Becky is a very pretty red headed woman about my age with big boobs and a dynamite figure despite being a little on the heavy side. She teaches English at the same high school where Peter is now the coach and math teacher.

When I first looked out my window that day, the two of them were seated at a table by the pool enjoying a shaker of what I am sure were cocktails. Both were fully dressed and sitting in separate chairs, all very conventional and proper. I could hear them discussing methods and problems of teaching adolescent students. I wondered about what was going on here. Pete Carr didn't strike me as someone that all that interested in theories of secondary education.

Becky repeated her visit several times over the next week or two, and each time what I saw was much the same except that the cocktail shaker was replaced by a pitcher that kept getting bigger with each visit. These little social afternoons were certainly becoming more alcoholic, and lasting longer too. "Candy's dandy, but liquor is quicker," I thought to myself.

Then one sunny afternoon the scene under my window suddenly changed. No longer prim and proper, Pete and Becky were both very much under the influence of whatever was in that pitcher. Nor was this any longer a polite discussion of educational theory between two fellow school teachers. No, this time a totally naked Mr. Peter Carr, and a scantily dressed Mrs. Rebecca Angle were frolicking in the shallow end of the pool. Playing 'grab ass' would be a better description. I could see Peter's discarded pants, shirt & underwear over by the diving board where most of Becky's clothes were also piled. Becky was still in her bra and panties, but wet as they were, the skimpy silk of those under garments didn't hide much.

Peter was doing his best to strip Becky of her undies while feeling her up in the process. She kept telling him to "stop it" but her protests lacked conviction, and of course Peter went right on trying, tugging first at the her bra, and then at her panties. In their playful struggles Peter repeatedly grabbed Becky by her tits and ran his hands between her legs. Becky would complain that a gentleman shouldn't touch a lady like that, but her giggles denied any real indignation about his roaming hands.

She was making a great show of trying to escape, but when she did slip away from Peter's grasp, she didn't seem very eager to swim for safety. Each time Peter caught her easily, and the two of them would resume their playful wrestling match.

Peter's cock was already up and rock hard, sticking straight out from his balls like the jib mast at the prow of a sailing ship. At every opportunity, Peter would rub his rampant male weapon against Becky's body, and there wasn't much she could do to avoid him..., although she certainly wasn't trying very hard to do so.

Once in her struggles her hand grabbed him by the prick. The grip on his tool didn't seem accidental to me, and she certainly held him a lot longer than was appropriate for a preacher's wife. It was obvious that she was thoroughly enjoying this introduction to Eddie's long woman tamer. Becky knew perfectly well what Peter wanted of her, and all three of us knew that it wouldn't be long she gave it to him.

Eventually the silk of her panties gave way. In that moment Peter must have also run his finger into his victim's pussy because I saw raw desire flash across Becky's face. Peter saw it too, and he responded by pulling his flushed and still weakly resisting victim from the water and onto the big double air mattress that waited on pool deck. Ripping her bra away, he pushed the now naked woman flat on her back. She lay there in quiet surrender. Her breasts rolled flat against her chest, and her knees were up and spread as if resigned to what she knew would happen next.

Peter knelt upright between those knees, his cock barely touching her pussy lips, but there he paused and waited. Gloating over his conquest, but watching his captive female closely, he carefully measured her response to her compromised situation. What he saw in Becky's face must have satisfied his predator instincts because with a one quick motion he grabbed her by her ankles, yanked her legs straight up over his head, and then spread his arms straight out to each side, splitting the cunt of his female toy wide open. Becky, neither protested nor resisted. She lay quite passively on her back with her legs as wide apart as they would go, her shaved pussy gaping open and defenseless, ready for his use.

That bald crotch caught me by surprise. Who would have thought it? What kind of a chaste and faithful preacher's wife keeps her pussy shaved clean of pubic hair? Had she shaved hers crotch for her husband or for Pete Carr? I'd be willing to bet the farm that Pete Carr was her reason! Why that shameless little redheaded whore! She had meant all along to be seduced by my sexy neighbor and his oversized prick! I wonder how long ago she shaved her pussy for the big event?

Becky, however, began to have second thoughts, either that or she was desperate to excuse her guilt in what was about to happen. Suddenly, but far too late, she tried to squirm away from the fearsome male weapon that threatened her pussy, and for the first time she seemed to be sincerely protesting against what Peter was doing to her.

"No, no, Pete. This mustn't happen. I am married..., a Christian woman. I've never done anything like this before. I can't let you do this to me,"

Pete, however, had poor Becky spread and helpless, and he intended to enjoy the fruits of his conquest. Like a wrestler seizing his final winning hold, he dropped between those open thighs, and pinned his struggling victim beneath his full weight. His hips and giant cock were pressed solidly against her feminine core, and if rape was his intent, it was now inevitable.

Rape, however, was not going to be unnecessary. Becky might have been uncertain and afraid of the consequences, but she was in heat, and she could have no more refused the big cock of this sexy stranger than she could stop breathing. Peter knew that too, and continued to apply pressure to the protesting but hopelessly horny red head. He French kissed her passionately. All her complaints were abruptly silencing by a tongue that forced its way deep into her mouth.

Well, that did it! All this was surely a new experience for poor Becky, I doubt that she had never been kissed like that before, and certainly never while on her back with an insistent lover and his ten inch cock between her legs. For sure, I couldn't picture the Right Reverend Angle on top of his spread eagled wife with his hard cock pressing against her bare and open cunt. The Reverend Angle just wasn't the type to run his tongue down a woman's throat, and demand with every wiggle of his body that she submit to his animal desires.

Raising his hips in the V between her knees, Pete abruptly seized Becky by one wrist and forced her hand into his crotch where her fingers grabbed his sex as if by reflex. Peter paused and waited, his ass still raised and poised for that final plunge into the pussy that waited under him.

Becky tho, hesitated. I recognized that hesitation. It was too late to save her virtue, if indeed she even wanted to, but a woman about to be seduced must always make a show of resistance. After the deed is done our pitiful and feeble protest gives our conscience some excuse for being the sluts that we are.

Peter, however, would allow poor Becky no 'outs.' He was demanding that before he would fuck her, she must admit the truth of her desire by stuffing his cock into her pussy with her own hands.

Poor tormented Becky! She tried her best, I'll give her that. Even teetering on the very brink with a giant penis held temptingly in her hand, she fought hard to save at least a scrap of ambiguity about what she was about to do. Peter said nothing. The devil! He knew very well how this game would end. He waited patiently for her decide, his hips still raised and threatening. Finally, as if negotiating for a compromise, she began to slowly jack his foreskin up and down over the cock head.

After a minute or two of masturbating his prick, I saw her look up at Peter longingly, and say something to him I couldn't make out. She must have thought that sweet words might slip her past the trap she had fallen into. Peter, however, remained resolute. He wanted her surrender, unconditional and absolute. He was not to be put off by with a feminine hand job, no matter how loving.

I heard his answer to Becky's plea quite clearly. He left no room for further equivocation. He called her his bitch, and he told her for the first time what until then had been unsaid..., that she must insert him into her cunt with her own hand.

Becky, however, remained determined to salvage something of her honor despite her hunger for this man who lay between her legs.

"No, No, we mustn't,"

It was the best she could do, all the resolve she had left. She pouted a little, and even renewed her futile squirming under him, although she never turned loose of the penis in her hand. It was all much too little too late, however. Peter's answer to her final effort to resist him, was to slide his arms under her knees, and force her thighs up and back against her full breasts. Her female slit came open under this new pressure, and poor Becky was suddenly even more vulnerable than before.

Pushed beyond caring, Becky could delay no longer. I heard the moan that announced her surrender. Her fingers brought the head of Peter's long thick woman tamer in line with her slit, and deftly pushed it between the lips of her pussy. Pete punched his hips down and then forward. Becky cried out with the wail of a woman announcing the arrival of rock hard male flesh inside her. I know all too well what it is like to be filled that way. I also knew that henceforth, Rebecca Angle would belong to Pete Carr, forever willing to do anything he might demand of her to have him in her again..., and again..., and again.

I knew because I had already been down the road where Becky was now going. For five dates over two weeks I refused to let Eddie Farmer fuck me, although I sucked him off at least once every time we went out. On our third date had I let him put his hands between my legs and inside my panties. He fingered my virgin pussy to a string of orgasms. God, how I did enjoy having him do that to me while I sucked on his dick.

He was at 'third base', and he knew it was only a matter of time before I gave in. My friends refused to believe that after two weeks I was still a virgin. Apparently no girl had ever gone beyond the third date with Eddie without having his cock buried in her cunt, even if he had to rape her. I think he was more patient with me partly because I was a challenge to him, and partly because my blow jobs were so enthusiastic and satisfying.

It was on our sixth date that Eddie had decided that he had waited long enough to plucking my cherry. He skipped the usual movie and took me straight to an apartment of a friend of his. He told me right off that either he would fuck me this night or we were through. Well, I was ready too, or I thought I was. I hadn't even worn any underwear. Eddie had hardly closed the door behind us when, without being told, I stripped off my skimpy summer sun dress and spread my self on the bed. No teenage girl was ever more willing, or in a bigger hurry, to give up her virginity than I was that night.

It was a mistake to let Eddie see how horny I was. He seized upon my passion as a weakness to be tormented. He took his good old time fiddling with the stereo and having a cold beer before he even started to bed. I was in heat, and desperate for him to stick it in me. For a week now I hadn't been able to sleep I was so caught up in my romantic fantasies about having my adored lover between my legs, and his cock buried in my cunt.

Now that it was about to happen, but Eddie was enjoying my impatience that grew with every passing minute, and he made me wait. I could only lay there with my legs spread obscenely apart, aching to have him in me, while he paraded naked around the room more or less aimlessly, enjoying his bottle of beer. 'It' was swaying with his every step, and I lay there mesmerized, lusting after that long fleshy tube that was so near, but as yet so useless to my need.

Finally, I began to sob hysterically as I begged my lover to come fuck me. Eddie didn't care about my distress. He made me admit that I was a slut and a whore, and that I was his property, his slave to do with as he pleased. Before he would even kiss me he insisted that I prove what an oversexed tramp I was by frigging myself to an orgasm with my own finger while he watched. Only after I had been thoroughly shamed did Eddie crawl between my knees. Once there, he raised himself a few inches, and just as Peter had done to Becky, Eddie took my hand, and forced my fingers around his cock.

And he did so with almost exactly the same words as I had just heard Peter use with Becky. "Put it in for me, bitch."

I had long wondered how I could take something so large in my tight little hole, but God, right then I wanted Eddie Farmer in me more than I ever wanted anything in my life. Hoping for the best, I started the thing into my slit, wedging it in as best I could, but keeping it between my fingers hoping to control the thrust I knew was coming. I whimpered to my lover (as if Eddie ever loved anyone but himself), reminding him that I was a virgin, and to please be gentle and not hurt me. I should have known even then that Eddie was incapable of caring whether he hurt me or not, and he didn't. With a single thrust he drove that monster penis through my hymen. With a second hard hunch of his hips, he buried the rest of his ten inches in me, all the way to his balls.

I screamed in pain, and spread my legs as wide as I could. It must have been true that I was every bit the horny little slattern I had just admitted to. Even deflowered in that cruel way, my pain soon began to ease, and as it did so, I was overcome with the warmth of being stretched and filled. I locked my legs around Eddie's the way he told me, and churned my hips in sync with the prick he was pumping in and out of me. With each stroke I could feel his hard flesh rub across my clit. Within minutes, maybe seconds, all my hurt was gone and I wanted more. Indeed, I was quite vocal about it..., begging shamelessly for more..., more..., more.