My Neighbor Ch. 6

Harvey and I spent the night together in my husband's bed. Like the primordial female slut I am, I freely offered him my body servicing his black penis with ardor and passion. He fucked me three times before dawn broke. Twice he rolled me onto my back, spread my thighs, and slid his foot long ebony cock into my cunt. During each sexing I captured him between my legs and locked my ankles over his hips, squeezing him, drawing him as deep inside me as any man has ever reached. The third time he took me on my knees with my shoulders on the bed as I reached back with both arms spreading my buttocks, making it easier for him fuck my ass. God, but it was all sooo good, even though I was so sore the next morning I could hardly get out of bed.

My husband Alvin's return flight was due to land in the early afternoon. I had things to do to be ready for him and I was terribly nervous that Harvey wouldn't leave in time. For no reason other than to torment me he dallied. First he insisted that we shower together, and after I had scrubbed his back and soaped his cock and balls, he pushed me to my knees and made me give him a blow job. Even after he finally shot off in my mouth, and I had swallowed his cum, he wouldn't leave until I made him breakfast. Finally I was able to send him off over to his buddy Pete's house next door.

I rushed off to spend an hour or so in the hot tub and on the message table at the spa Alvin and I belong to, and then another couple of hours at the beauty parlor. By the time Alvin arrived home right after lunch I had managed to erase most of the ravages of being fucked half to death while my husband was away. That was a good thing because Alvin had brought with him an important house guest, Senator Causeway, who was sponsoring Alvin's research grant in Washington.

It seems that the Senator and Peter Carr had known each other in college. I gathered that they had been more acquaintances than close friends, but when Alvin happened to mention that Peter was our neighbor, Senator Causeway seized upon this unexpected coincidence as an opportunity to talk over old times with his former classmate. All that was fine and good for the Senator, but it made me nervous as hell.

How could I be so unlucky as to have a guest who knew the man who has made me his willing cunt slave? What might he tell the Senator about me? More important, what stories would get back to Alvin? How would Alvin react if he finds out that Peter has been fucking me? Life is full of bad breaks, and more than my share seem to have come my way. There was nothing I could do but hold my breath, hope, and wait and see.

The Senator seemed nice enough and I bucked up and started to think maybe things would work out O.K.. My worst time came the day after the Senator's arrival when he and my husband spent a couple of hours having cocktails with Peter by his pool. I watched and tried to listen to their conversation from my sewing room window. I couldn't catch everything that was said but I didn't hear my name mentioned, and equally comforting, Peter didn't call me over to 'entertain.'

What if he had? What would I have done? I would have gone of course, but then what would Peter have made me do? I had watched as he put Becky thru a degrading performance in front of her husband, delighting in her shame and humiliation. I was terrified he would do that again with me as the star, but nothing like that happened. So far so good, even though I was pretty sure the men had talked to one another on other occasions when I was unable to eavesdrop!

Things started to turn sticky the very next evening, however. Alvin and I were dressing to go out for dinner with the Senator. Alvin was acting strangely, inexplicably making unusual demands that were totally out of character. In all our years together, he had never before suggested, complained, or even commented about how I might be dressed for a night out. Yet tonight, for some reason I didn't understand at the time, he was suddenly dictating to me what I would wear to our dinner with Senator Causeway.

To begin with he insisted that I chose a sexy black silk dress with an oriental flavor that I thought was far too revealing and slinky for the occasion. The dress fit me like a tight sleeve, and it featured a bare back, a low cut bosom, and a slit up the left leg all the way to the top of my hip. Above the neckline were two thin straps over my shoulders that crossed as they dropped down the otherwise open back and attached to the lower part of the dress that rode rather too low down on my hips, My upper chest, back, shoulders and arms were of course all quite bare, or more accurately said, exposed.

Alvin next told me, no decreed is a better word, that I must not wear a bra. Under that tight skimpy dress, the absence of a brassiere to support my ample breasts was going to be embarrassingly obvious. I started to ask "...why in the world...?"

Alvin's response was totally unlike him. He was actually leering when he told me that the Senator was a "tit man" who would enjoy seeing my breasts bob and jiggle under my dress the way they do when I don't wear a bra. If that was so, then the Senator was in for a treat. In the tight black slinky outfit Alvin had selected for me, every sway of my breasts would be very noticeable, and my nipples plainly outlined against the thin silk would be no less so.

When I checked myself in the mirror, my worst fears were confirmed. I must admit the effect was very sexy, but I was embarrassed by my appearance. What was going on? My strait laced and conservative husband apparently wanted me to accompany he and his guest to a posh public restaurant looking exactly like an expensive hooker. Why? I was beginning to become decidedly uneasy. What WAS this was all about?

Every bit as peculiar as Alvin's decree that I could not wear a bra, however, was the way he ordered me to put my panty hose away and wear a pair of nylons and a garter belt instead. Like most women, panty hose make me feel safe and secure. I began to protest strongly, but he snatched from out of my hand the new pair I had just taken from the box and threw them against the wall at the back of our closet.

"Don't argue with me Melanie, God Damn it," he swore at me, scowling as he did so, "and wear your panties on top of the garter belt, not under it. Don't argue about it either. One more word out of you and you will go without any panties at all."

Well, I didn't want that, so I didn't say anything more. I draped a small white jacket over my shoulders that covered me up a little, and restored a bit of my modesty and confidence. The three of us took a cab to the restaurant, a swanky upscale bistro with a reputation for excellent French cuisine and well to do patrons. When we arrived, however, Alvin would not allow me to wear my jacket inside. He insisted that he should carry my security blanket draped over his arm. Without any cover at all for my modesty, that tight sexy black dress certainly received its share of attention as my husband paraded me across the room to a circular booth in the far corner. I was mortified. I slid into the seat between my two male escorts, the waiter gave us each a menu. I grabbed frantically for mine and held it up trying to screen my face and bosom from the from the stares of the other diners and staff. Our waiter was no help to my distress and shattered ego. He was so intent on staring down the skimpy top of my dress at my breasts that he could hardly take Alvin's order for two bottles of wine. I wondered if he could see a nipple. By the look on his face I suspected so.

I was still hiding behind my menu as if studying my dinner choice when the waiter returned and began the ritual of opening the bottles and pouring the wine. It was right at that moment that Senator Causeway's hand reached thru the slit of my dress and began to stroke my stocking covered knee. I was stunned, unable to believe what this man, supposedly respectable member of the US Congress, was feeling me up under the table with my husband seated right beside us. At the time, however, the waiter was filling my glass with wine, and there wasn't much I could do about it without an unfortunate scene.

By the time the waiter had finished pouring and had left us, the hand under by dress had moved on to stroking the inside of my thigh. "Please, Senator, NO! What are you doing?" I pleaded with him whispering in the hope Alvin would not hear.

"Oh come now Melanie!" the Senator answered quite loudly, as if Alvin wasn't even there. As he spoke he leaned toward me, leering in my face like a bad actor playing the villain's part in second rate production of a bad play. "Quit playing the chaste and outraged wife. Your husband and I know better. Your neighbor has told us all about what a little slut you are. You are the same blond tramp from next door who sucks the cock of my old friend from college aren't you Melanie?"

"Yes, but...," I started to answer as my heart sank, "can't we talk about this later. I can explain. We mustn't act this way right here in pubic. What if someone recognizes you Senator? Alvin, Please tell him...." I could see in his face that my husband was competently aware where the Senator had his hand, and it was clear that I could expect no help from Alvin.

"It's no use Melanie," Alvin told me, "Senator Causeway and I know all about how Peter has turned you into his own personal little whore. He claims to own you now. Do you know that? Do you know he has told me that you are his slut, his cunt slave, his property? Is all that so Melanie? It is, isn't it! You can't deny it can you? No? I didn't think so. The funny part is that I don't really mind at all. Does that surprise you? Oh, I was upset me a little at first, but then I was able to focus on where you would best fit in my life."

"We have a housekeeper and a cook who take care of the basic domestic chores. Your services there are minimal. You have already given me a second child, and I do not wish to have another. Whatever your duties as Mr. Car's slut, I have no doubt you will always be a good and loving mother to our daughter. Beyond mothering our daughter then, what do you do that I need done. Put another way, why should I keep you as my wife?

That answer is fairly apparent. For sex of course! What else? But, for what kind of sex? Loving tender husband and wife sex? No, I've already experienced that from both my wives. I am ready now to move on to something different, something my small penis has never allowed me to have before. Now I want a concubine, a love slave, an indentured female who must and will submit to my every selfish sexual desire, no matter how cruel, perverted, or promiscuous."

"Peter Carr has done me a great favor by turning you into just that woman Melanie. I am not a proud man. To have the submissive slut I want I am perfectly willing to take, how do you say it, 'sloppy seconds.' Carr may own you, but I am your husband still. I not only intend to remain so, I mean to fully exercise my marital right to the sexual use of you body..., in any way I please."

"For a long time now I have enjoyed kinky fantasies in which my sweet pretty blond wife was always the star performer. In those erotic dreams could see my Melanie on back, her sexy legs spread wide, with a strange man's cock buried in her cunt, begging to be fucked harder. It seems now that dream will become a reality. I will watch you pinned to the bed by some unknown giant cock, quivering with orgasm. Once your lover has filled you with his cum, I will still be watching as you clean his weapon with your mouth and tongue, and ready him for the second act of my entertainment. When he is once again hard my darling, it will be my pleasure to see you kneel before him with your ass in the air, spreading your buttocks apart with your own hands as you plead frantically for him to fuck you in the ass."

"You have always dreamed of having a demanding stud with a big cock to service your ass and pussy that way, haven't you Melanie? Well, all right. That gets my vote too. I want you have as many big cocks as you can handle..., one..., or two..., or three." Why stop at three? Why not a whole room full of studs to gang bang your every hole with enough left over to have one for each of your hands. Perhaps with a little luck, I'll even have my chance to see that too."

"Beyond watching while strange men abuse you Melanie, for the first time in our marriage I want to fuck you selfishly with neither concern for your pleasure, nor guilt about my undersized penis. That is now not only possible, there are other advantages to this situation as well. As my wife, I am entitled to my share of your pussy, but as Peter's property and whore, he is solely responsible for your performance and sexual submission. Anytime you fail to service me properly, misbehave, or disobey me, I can simply turn the problem over to Peter.

He has assured me that he will not only see to it that you are disciplined and corrected, I can even watch while he does it. Again, there is something I have always wanted to see...., my wife hanging naked by her wrists and whipped..., beaten across her thighs, her belly, her ass, and her tits..., screaming in pain when a thong of the whip catches her in the tender spot between her legs."

"So you see, Melanie, you are my slave as much as you are Peter's, and for tonight and hereafter, Senator Causeway has my permission to feel your body as he pleases. Go ahead and resist the him, Melanie. It will be special treat for the Senator and I in the morning when along with our breakfast we will watch while Peter punishes your misbehavior. Go ahead Melanie. Make a scene. I am so looking forward to the first time I can see you whipped."

What could I say? I was doomed! I could not refuse the hand that was my leg. I could not deny these men anything they demanded of me. Should I even try to do so, I knew that Peter would beat me, and before he was through I would be on my knees at their feet, promising to do whatever they wanted of me. No, I was their female plaything. That was a fact I must accept. Already Senator Causeway's fingers had reached the crotch of my panties.

"How does she feel Senator?" Alvin asked.

"Smooth and soft! Very feminine. Absolutely enchanting! Your little slut wife is going to be a treasure for me. My dick gets hard just thinking about having her in my bed . My visits with you and your lovely wife are going to mean more to me than I ever imagined. Perhaps we ought to extend the size and time of your research grant in order that she will be available to service my cock for longer than we had originally planned."

So that's it I thought..., Alvin is buying his precious federal grant money with my pussy. I gritted my teeth and tried hard not react as the Senator's finger probed and poked its way past the elastic at the crotch of my panties. He could get inside all right, but once there the tight nylon drastically constricted the room he needed to finger fuck me.

"Damn," the Senator complained, "her God damn her panties are in the way. I was afraid they would be when you told me she was wearing them."

Alvin, however, knew how to solve the Senator's problem. "Melanie, go to the ladies room and take off your panties. Bring them back here and put them on the table where the waiter can't help but see them. And, another thing! As you sit back down between us, hitch the back of your dress up to your waist so that your bare ass is against the seat."

"No, Alvin PLEASE...." I started to protest, but he cut me short.

"NOW, Melanie, Right this minute, GO..., or would you rather have Peter work your little slut ass out on the pool deck gym bar in the morning?"

There was no choice. My husband had decided to treat me like the common slut I guess Peter has made of me. The Senator stood and moved aside in order that I could slide out from behind the table. As I started to leave, Alvin refused to let me take my purse, although I couldn't imagine why. Embarrassed, I kept my gaze on the floor as I walked toward the Ladies' Room. I was certain that the eyes of every restaurant patron were frozen on me. What but my body under that slinky trashy dress could have caused the sudden hush in the room, and then the whispering murmur that followed?

Once in the bathroom, I hid in a toilet stall, and stripped my panties down my legs. It was strange, but sexy somehow, to feel my dress against my pubic hair, and rubbing directly on the bare skin of my belly. My pussy was becoming moist at just the idea that I was now all but naked under my dress. It came to me then why Alvin wouldn't let me bring my purse with me. I had no way to conceal my panties as I brought them back to the table. I must carry them in my hand for all to see!

I was blushing beet red as I started back to my table. I had wadded my panties into as small a ball as possible, but the pink nylon was bulging from between every finger of my small hand. Even holding the hand at my side as far out of sight as possible didn't help much. I could see heads shifting to have a better look at what I was carrying, then coming together to exchange whispers. It was an awful experience, yet my pussy was becoming wetter with every step I took.

It seemed an eternity to cross that room. When I finally reached our table, I dropped my panties down on top of it the way Alvin had instructed. A woman at the table nearest us gave an audible gasp. The Senator stood, inviting me to slide in between he and my husband. I remembered what Alvin had told me about the way I was to sit back down. How could I forget. All the way across the room I had been planning the best way to do it. Somehow I had to heist the back of my dress and hold it up and away from my legs and buttocks as I slid on my bare bottom across the slick leather seat .

Actually, sitting down that way turned out to be easier than I thought. Without being too obvious I managed to take my place in the middle of the booth in a rustle of black silk. The chill of the seat directly against the naked cheeks of my ass did snatch my breath away for a moment, however. The Senator quickly slid in beside me, eager to return his hand to between my thighs now that my pussy was stripped of its only defense. He did not disappoint me.

Alvin asked him, "Better now Senator?'

"Oh yes, but it would be better yet if the little bitch would relax and spread her legs a little."

"That can be arranged," Alvin answered, as he whispered sweetly in my ear, "Please my darling wife, bring the front of your skirt up to your waist. Then you will be able to spread your legs nice and wide like a good little slut. Do it! The Senator wants to finger your pussy."

I did as I was told. What else could I do. Carefully, trying not to draw attention to myself, I reached under the table cloth, and gathered handfuls of my skirt. Slowly, I raised the smooth silk up my legs until it was all above my lap. The entire skirt to my dress, both front and back, was now bunched up on the seat around me, and I was naked and exposed under the table except for my stockings and garter belt. I used my napkin and the edges of the table cloth as best I could to hide all that extra black silk at my waist. Resigned to what I knew would happen next, I allowed my knees to flop apart. The Senator was predictable. Free and unimpeded now, his hands began to roam over my thighs and into my crotch.

It was at that moment that our waiter came back to take our order. His eyes became big as saucers when he saw my panties laying on top of his table, and he looked at me sharply, questioningly. The Senator continued to run his fingers up and down my slit, teasing me, making me guess what he was likely to do next. Just as the waiter asked, "...and what will the madam have as an appetizer..." the Senator hooked his social finger into my slit. At the same time the butt of his hand pressed down hard against my clitoris. My eyes must have become as big as those of the waiter. In my shock I clinched my buttocks and bounced just enough to be noticeable. The rebound was even more noticeable as the clinch passed. Something that sounded like a big hiccup escaped involuntarily from my throat.