Neighbor Chronicles Redux Ch. 01

"Maybe, but it can't hurt to look it over. He hasn't bothered us at all in the last two weeks, even though you bet me otherwise."

"Hey now! There's still two more weeks left on that bet! And depending on the contents of this letter I just might have won," Amber challenged as she dug the tips of her fingers into her husband's sides.

"Okay, okay!" Bill backed up, unable to fully escape her playful assault, " If this letter is fucking creepy and shit, you win. Deal? If not, who knows, maybe he might even be worth fucking again," Bill half-teased, "As things stand, I'm worried my dick might fall off from overuse--I might need to tag out for a bit."

Amber laughed again, noticing the growing bulge in the front of her husband's pants.

"You're incorrigible," she shot back, pushing him playfully away from the counter as she assumed his place. She turned her head towards him as she began swaying her hips back and forth.

"Well, as your doctor, to make sure you continue seeing this situation objectively, I'm going to have to prescribe something drastic and drain your balls right here. Do you think you can handle that, sir?" Her voice was pure silk.

Bill was powerless. And soon he'd also be quite empty.

**************************

Jack had seen that their kitchen light was on from his seat at his dining room table. He didn't make a point to spy, but he was curious. He shut off the lights and peered out of the blinds of his dining room. The light was brightest from the small window above their kitchen sink, which was flanked on one side by appliances and cabinets and by a counter connecting to the living room on the other. Their curtains had been drawn religiously for weeks and he had stopped even looking over in their direction anymore. Tonight, however, was a different story.

Jack moved to his living room to get a better view, as there was enough space between the bars of the side gate of the pool fence that gave just enough room to see. The night was cool, but not freezing, and it appeared that Amber and Bill had cracked the window slightly to let in some fresh air. When they did, however, it appears they had left the shades pulled back just enough to see inside, and he swore he saw movement.

More curious than ashamed, he walked over to the kitchen and fished out a pair of old binoculars from a junk drawer. Jack raced upstairs to his office, returning with a device resembling a small satellite dish with some wires and a pistol grip. He received this parabolic audio amplifier from one of his cop friends years back, happy at the thought it would come in handy again. They served him well in his much less respectable past and maybe they'd serve him well now too. He hustled back to the window to investigate.

Bringing them into focus, he could make out someone leaning over the counter, facing towards their living room. They bounced rhythmically back and forth. Panning down, he could see two large hands on their hips, followed by another body repeatedly closing the distance between them.

Oh--They were fucking.

Jack remembered their window was open, and he slighted opened his own. Even with the snow bouncing around the sound, he was not able to hear anything. He fired up the amplifier, sliding on the large headphones, and he used the stand on the front of the dish to angle it towards their open window. The cord was long and coiled, allowing him to move freely around the window without disturbing his setup.

He fiddled with the settings, managing to tune it to the proper distance to hear what was going on inside.

"Yes, yes, yes, Bill--fuck. You feel so good."

Amber.

"Oh, I know how you like it, babe. You like getting bent over the counter like a good, dutiful wife?"

Bill.

"Oh, god yes"

He could make out muted slaps, punctuation between her moaning, begging for more. He fumbled for his binoculars and he could just make out the red of her freshly spanked ass above Bill's hands hugging her hips.

A single thought occurred to him.

'Oh, I did that--he never used to spank her. That's my doing.'

Jack's ears grew hot with envy. That should have been HIM. She only talked like that with HIM. There was no way in hell Bill was giving her what she actually needed... was there?

His rapidly hardening length twitched angrily in his sweatpants, betraying his anger and only frustrating him further. He sat on the floor and pulled out his cock, sounds from the audio amplifier feeding his earphones with the sounds from their window. The only sound accompanying their breathy voices and deep moans was that of skin slapping on skin. He closed his eyes, bringing to life all the images he worked so hard to commit to memory.

"Oh my god, yes, I can feel you twitching, please, please fill me up!"

"Hmm, I'm not sure if you've been bad enough for me. Are you sure it's my cum you want? You can't fool me, I never watched you savor it like his."

"Yes baby, please--I'm all yours! I'm gonna c--"

Amber was definitely cumming as Jack already felt himself getting close. 'Like his?' That had to be in reference to himself, right? It had to be. Surely he couldn't have been replaced already? The thought just made him harder. He wanted nothing more than to march in the door, rip her from Bill's arms, and pound her senseless on the counter in front of him.

Animalistic moans, punctuated by what had to be Bill's slowing thrusts, were the last noises Jack could hear, as the man next door obviously gave his angel of a wife exactly what she wanted.

Amber's face flashed through Jack's mind, looking back at him over her incredible ass, telling him she was all his between her desperate moans, begging him to fill her, begging him to make her his--"

"That should be me" Jack moaned softly to himself as he exploded all over his stomach. He shuddered as the powerful orgasm shook through him.

The cold air from the open window caused his load to cool quite rapidly, making him shiver.

'This should be inside of her right now, and Bill should be the one cumming all over himself.' he thought angrily as he got to his feet, grasping for a paper towel from the table. He felt ridiculous as he laughed to himself: easy clean up was one of the weird benefits to hanging out shirtless at home.

He began to relax a little as he cleaned himself off, removing his equipment as he closed the window, and marched upstairs to shower. Post-nut clarity helped him think more rationally as he turned on the shower faucet and stepped into its welcoming heat.

A worrying thought occurred to him. Had they read his letter? Did they even deign to open it or would they just throw it away?

'Alright, calm down. I really fucked up here. But what else can I do? They must have the letter, and they've gotta read it eventually. And if they don't-- well, I've done everything I can. There's no way that his sexy neighbor would tolerate anything rash right now, I gotta chill out and let things blow over.'

For whatever reason he felt odd only referring to Amber as his sexy neighbor, and now it felt like it took effort to even do so? What the fuck was wrong with him? There was no mistaking the look he could put on her face, the ecstasy of the sounds she made, the flash of excitement in her eyes that would betray her defensive exterior when he'd tell her about something they could do that Bill would love to see...

God he hoped she'd remember too.

**************************

Bill and Amber had collapsed as they came down from their high. A wife pinned to the counter by her husband, now leaking onto the floor.

They lasted there for a moment as one, him still inside her. As he was about to pull out and let her up, she turned and pulled his face close, kissing him passionately once more.

They were glowing when they finally got up, both smiling and equally satisfied. The sticky floor beneath them evidence of what took place.

Bill quickly cleaned up as Amber raced upstairs to shower, comically holding a few paper towels between her thighs as she did so. Looking everything over, Bill spotted the letter still sitting further down the counter. He eyed it for only a moment before ascending to join his beautiful wife, last seen goose-stepping her way up the stairs like some gangly puppet. God damn, he loved being married.

**************************

Bill and Amber, both still glowing and now freshly showered, decided to curl up on the couch and watch some TV.

"Would you like something to drink, darling?" he asked.

"Some chamomile would be lovely, thank you babe!"

Bill flicked on the kitchen light, followed by the click of the electric kettle. Amber heard him stop after turning off the sink, and looked over the counter into the kitchen to see him holding a glass of water in one hand and Jack's unopened letter from earlier in the other.

"All right, fuck it," she said, throwing her hands over her head in mock exasperation, "Let's see what this asshole could possibly have to say."

Bill looked up, cracking a smile at her gesture. He set the waters down on the coffee table in front of the couch as he presented the thick envelope to Amber with a flourish of his wrist.

"Here you are, miss. It is firstly addressed to you, after all."

Amber laughed in response, leaning over one of the armrests to click on a lamp.

"Give it here, you dork! Come cuddle with me, we can look over it together."

Amber leaned forward, hitting the side of the letter on the table in front of them. Bill joined her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she ripped open the opposite end.

"Ooh, this is some nice stationary," Amber started, "Who would've thought he had anything like this over in that gross house of his?"

Bill chuckled as he sipped from his water, "Looks like this guy is full of surprises."

Click.

"Oops, that's the kettle, let me get you that tea, my love," Bill got up as fast as he sat down.

She started reading.

"You like yours steeped for 5 minutes, right darling?"

"Oh, uh, yes! Thank you babe."

Bill set the timer on his phone and brought her mug and a small dish for her tea bag over to the table.

"Wow you look intense. How is it?"

Amber paused for a moment, searching for the words.

"It's--different. Unexpected, I guess? It's weird, it doesn't sound like him, but it's definitely him, if that makes sense?" she explained.

"Hmmm, let me take a look?" he said as she handed it to him.

The timer on his phone went off. Bill didn't seem to notice as Amber silenced it and proceeded to remove her teabag.

"Wow, that's--Hmm," Bill intoned as he finished.

"Right? I don't even know what to think right now," Amber said between sips of her piping hot tea.

"It's like there's an actual human being walking around inside him, or something. I was worried he was all dick, no brain."

Amber giggled and punched him in the shoulder, "Hey now--are you implying that's all I care about? That I don't have standards or something?"

"Oh, I know you have standards," Bill lifted his hands in front of him. His palms were open, with both facing each other. He began pulling them apart as he continued, "and they look something like thiiiiiis."

"Bill!" Amber blushed, pushing him away as she giggled louder, "If you're going to say so, at least be accurate!"

She made a face as serious as she could muster without laughing and raised her own hands, establishing a distance between them much larger than Bill's, "they're much bigger than that."

Bill's laugh rang throughout the house, "Oh come here you naughty little vixen!"

Amber cackled as Bill playfully tackled her into the couch.

"You know you love me, regardless of who fills me up," she teased.

Amber tickled Bill in an attempt to defend herself, failing to free herself from his grasp.

"Oh, don't start battles you can't win!"

Bill wrangled both of Amber's wrists into one of his large hands before responding with a tickle onslaught of his own in riposte.

And their night was filled with laughter, cuddles, and some calming chamomile tea that required reheating.

**************************

"Deeper, bitch. Fuck yeah, that's it."

Amber's brows furrowed to a point as her eyes began rolling back, taking more and more of Jack's massive cock down her throat.

"Almost there!" Jack yelled at the women kneeling on his bed in front of him, "Don't disappoint me. Don't disappoint that husband of yours either."

Her shapely rear-end, stained red with the hand prints of the man currently stuffing her face, was perched on the backs of her ankles. His hands cupped her head above her temples, leaving her no room to retreat as he guided himself deeper. Her face was just beginning to disappear behind his belly as it made contact with her forehead.

Amber began sputtering as he reached her limit, spit rolling down the edges of his cock, only an inch or two of which was still visible--not that Jack could tell, of course.

Jack roared as he released her head, saliva flying as his cock erupted from her throat, glistening in the daylight flowing in from the curtains. Amber leaned forward, coughing forcefully as she struggled to regain her breath, She wiped away at the drool covering her chin and the entirety of her chest with futility.

"Good fucking girl. It's like you belong on your knees in front of me. Don't you love being my good little slut?"

Amber's face suddenly changed. Her coughing ceased as her eyes grew dangerously cold.

Jack felt a shiver run down his spine as his expression changed from triumph to confusion.

"Yours?" Amber's voice was ice as she gripped the base of his cock like a vise, way beyond any point of pleasure.

"H-Hey, what the fuck--" Jack stammered, unable to break away from her stare.

She threw her head back, laughing menacingly. Jack's heart began beating frantically.

"Yours?!" She repeated, their eyes now locked. Her voice became pure malice.

"I will never, ever, belong to you--you stupid, degenerate fuck."

She opened her mouth wide, both rows of teeth clearly visible, leaning forward as the head of Jack's still-throbbing cock disappeared inside. Jack couldn't move, completely immobilized as his heart leapt into his throat.

Her teeth, now comically white, clamped down on his cock as her proportions began to skew, eyes bulging and cheekbones flaring, as she morphed into a frightening, spindly, caricature of the hottie next door. Sadistic laughter echoed throughout the room as she pressed harder and harder and harder--

Jack jolted awake, limbs flailing as he bolted upright, accompanied by nothing but darkness and the soft moonlight from his bedroom window. The air was freezing against his sweat-soaked shirt as he whirled his head around, assessing his surroundings as he grounded himself, still gasping to catch his breath. His dick throbbed painfully against his boxers as he came to his senses. What the fuck was that?

He peeled off his shirt and threw on his robe as he lumbered toward the bathroom. Jack learned forward over the toilet, one hand supported himself against the wall while the other angled his turgid member down enough for his piss to make it in the bowl. God, this thing could be a fucking pain.

'I really should've installed that urinal' Jack reminded himself, as he usually did on most mornings where taking a piss was a logistical nightmare.

There was no way he could sleep after that.

"Fuck. This has gotta stop."

Guided by moonlight, Jack made his way into his office and booted up his computer.

'New User? Register here'

Clicking through his folder of pictures and videos, he started organizing the ones he'd use as the website loaded up.

Jack smiled to himself as he typed out a profile, dragging and dropping pictures as he discerned what he should and shouldn't do, a list of recommendations from other sites was open in a separate window.

Some of the photos he had sent to Amber, and some Amber even took herself, came in handy. He made sure not to show her face, but damn did her hands, complete with bright, always well-manicured nails, look great wrapped around his cock. And there he was, in his office, sitting in nothing but a bathrobe, illuminated only by the sterile light of his computer monitor, hoping that some other couples might think so too.

**************************

The letter left on Amber and Bill's coffee table read as follows:

Dear Amber and Bill,

I can't tell you how disgusted I am with myself for how I treated you both. I'm going to try and apologize anyway, and I hope, at the very least, it will bring you some context and closure.

You let me into your lives, into your lovely home, and even into the private intimacies of your marriage. I failed to treat this trust and openness with the respect you deserved. I was deeply honored with the role you allowed me to play for as long as I was able to play it, and I hope the benefits of our arrangement were enjoyable despite the headaches I caused you.

I've played a role like this before--although back then I didn't know it had a name. Couples (some friends, some strangers, some who'd been referred to me) shared fantasies with me that I could help fulfill. Eventually, I developed a persona that played into these fantasies and desires. The women in these relationships weren't interested in an intimate connection with me, and so every time my mask would slip, they would quickly lose interest. I learned to keep that shit locked up and kept away from my arrangements.

Things would go well for a while. It felt like a dream come true, sometimes. I mean, no-strings-attached sex with willing women who were excited to hop on when they saw what I was packing? What wasn't to love?

Over time, I learned that things tended to go one of a few ways. Some couples enjoyed a more exciting sex life and a deeper intimacy between them after our time together, but it also exposed and worsened relationship issues in others. The excitement, joy, and feverish energy of the taboo would devolve into suspicion, jealousy, and insecurity. Other times, things would be going great until they would suddenly disappear. It was relatively common to meet with a couple, only to never hear from them again afterward.

Others would get too swept up in the whole thing and neglect their marriage. I've even had women show up to my home after getting kicked out by their husbands, looking for a place to crash. More than one wife came to me crying, saying their husband had gotten too caught up in the fetish and the fantasy and began treating them like their own personal porn star. Eventually, I just couldn't take it anymore: the juice wasn't worth the squeeze. The ups and downs of navigating the scene took a toll and I stopped altogether.

That was true until this past summer, of course.

I figured you invited me to Bill's birthday party out of courtesy. I didn't get out much and was right next door, and hey, free beer, so I came over.

I know I wasn't the best guest, and I can be rude and arrogant at the best of times. So naturally, I was completely unprepared for what happened after the party ended.

It didn't feel real. There I was, far out of my prime, and this absolute angel came onto me. It was a mindfuck--her respectful, handsome, seemingly ideal husband was just inside--what reason did she have to cheat?

So I fell down the rabbit hole of thoughts my experience taught me. Why? Had he cheated on her? Was he shit in bed? Was he a total prick in private and wanted to nuke the relationship? Did she need an outlet after playing the role of "perfect trophy housewife" for too long? Was their "perfect marriage" a farce? Severe daddy issues? Was I being punked?