Owning the Neighbors

***

THE HOUSEWARMING

How does one prime for a fight when one doesn't know what they're up against?

I knew the enemy but had no comprehension of what he'd done to us.

Shelia admitted to only remembering my disgraceful exhibitions and used those memories to torment me. Every snippet she forced me to revisit demeaned me to the point that I began to question the validity of her statement. Was I a man?

I no longer felt manly, I experienced humiliation at behaviors that I had no control over. There was no reason for her to demoralize me the way she did. It placed me in a distraught state where I was incapable of devising a plan.

However, I was determined to prove her wrong and bring this nightmare to a conclusion. Although I expressed misery, I did not indicate that she'd pulverized me enough to form a crack.

I would fake my courage and stand up to that diabolical man. I would demand that he restore my wife and our marriage.

My weapon of choice was a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates for his wife.

We were exactly on time and not a minute passed.

I pressed the doorbell.

A gorgeous woman in a bathrobe opened the door.

Dark eyeliner and mascara outlined her blue eyes and contrasted with her pale features.

My eyes momentarily drifted down to marvel at her exposed cleavage.

Observing my stare, she snapped her robe closed causing me to return my look to her face.

Contrary to her action of modesty, she eyed me with a sexual hunger and impulsively ran her tongue across her ruby-colored lips.

Her straight blond hair haloed her dainty head and was pulled back with a swath of her hand while she silently mouthed the words, "Run. Be a man."

A husky voice from further in the house said, "Darling Sally, greet the Martins and let them in. Behave like a hostess or you won't get to party with us. I'll cut you off for a year. I'm expecting them and you know this."

The woman's eyes watered and broadened at his threat.

She suddenly smiled, clinched her robe tight, and took a few steps back while waving us in.

The house was huge and elaboratively decorated with extravagant trinkets to display the man's excessive wealth. We had no way of knowing that he had dubiously acquired his riches through deceit and not from the righteous means of a man's labor.

We were led to a spacious room sporting an assortment of plush furniture and comfy recliners.

Mr. Johnson sat on a luxurious sofa. He was adorned in a pink silk robe with his legs crossed and resting on top of a coffee table. He smiled as we entered and said, "I neglected to inform you that you needn't dress formally. Hand the wine and the candy to the housemaid. Her name is Betty."

A pregnant woman with brunette hair tied in a bun appeared from a side-door. She was dressed in a skimpy maid outfit and approached with her hands out. The clothing she wore was more of a costume from a sex boutique than the functional apparel of a servant. With her protuberant tummy exposed, she looked uncomfortable and humiliated.

Mr. Johnson exclaimed, "No sweets for my dear Sally. It's taken me over a year to diligently mold her feminine shape to perfection. I refuse to ruin that sexy figure by allowing her to indulge in chocolates."

I felt Sally's presence close behind me to the point of touching. Her breath was heavy at my ear like she wanted to nibble on it or perhaps express another warning. More likely, she had succumbed to her husband's threat and it was a means to block my escape.

As the maid stood in front of me, I handed her the bottle of wine and the box of candy.

For a moment, she glared at me with weary eyes communicating dread and grief.

When she turned to leave, her movements were sluggish from drudgery combined with the added burden of carried weight. The woman should be resting, not tolling about on her feet.

Mr. Johnson laughed at my obvious distress and said, "It's clear that you're curious and unsettled. You want answers?"

I had many questions, but they remained bottled up and didn't come out at that moment.

He said, "This house belonged to a wealthy couple. The wife is now the maid and the husband's existence doesn't persist as a problem anymore. The privileged whore relentlessly badgered me to gratify her instead of serving her purpose and became an annoyance that bored me. I figured out that she simply had too much time on her hands. The solution was to occupy her days with housework and subservience. Knocking her up was a bonus that worked wonders to stem her incessant complaining."

I snapped, "You're a monster. How could you do that to anyone?"

"It's easy when whores are eager and willing. Now that you're here, there's no need for pretenses. I've never lied to you and never will. Everyone plays a part in this community. I intend to colorize this cracker neighborhood and every woman serves to fulfill that need. The men, well, they're the entertainment that provides me the greatest satisfaction."

"You're also insane," I spat.

"I'm quite lucid and determined. As for your hotwife, she's premium breeding stock."

I yelled, "You're not touching her!"

"Jesse, soothe your anger. You mustn't fret, I never separate husbands and wives until I deem them divorced. Unlike them, you're both special. I promise that you'll observe each copious ejaculation and every baby she pops out."

I was seething and horrified and experienced an urge to dive upon him and pummel him to death that instant. It felt like a waking nightmare that had only just begun. Oddly, I couldn't work up the nerve to fight him. But there was one choice that felt like a better option. We had to get out of this house and away from him.

My quick action was to grab Shelia's arm and tug her towards the door.

She vigorously jerked her arm from my grasp and recoiled from me as if I carried the plague.

Wide-eyed, she screeched, "I'm staying with him!"

Shocked by her reaction and words, I glared at her with confusion and hurt.

Mr. Johnson chuckled and then said, "Jesse, you've been so focused on my heinous plot to impregnate your wife that you paid little attention to her. Your mistake was bringing her into this house to stand before me. My lusty new slut now knows why she's been feeling empty and desperate."

"Shelia, you heard his plan. We need to leave now!" I cried while lurching a few steps towards her.

She shuffled further back until reaching the sofa and then clasped the devil's hand in hers.

Just like that, my wife was lost to me. I knew that instant that I had no plan or any hope of saving her.

Mr. Johnson then said, "You can certainly leave if you want. I won't stop you, but you'll miss out on the housewarming party I've planned."

"I'm not leaving without Shelia."

"And there lies the crux of your dilemma. Staying requires that you participate or observe. But if you selfishly leave to save yourself, you abandon her to fate. You'll never know what became of her. However, I am a fair man and I've always kept my word. I'm providing you a means to save yourselves from damnation. You have but to make one manly decision for salvation and everything will be reversed."

"I'll go to the authorities."

"Darling, it's been done before. No one is mistreated, never a bruise, nor a complaint. Your wife is an adult choosing to remain with her lover. She will divulge to the cops that your marriage has ended. She will deny being accosted against her will. This incident will be classified as a domestic squabble with no arrests. These rare occurrences have only bolstered my reputation as being a lucky homewrecker with a knack for acquiring the love of many wives. Do you understand the futility of that effort?"

"What must I do to win her back?"

"Prove to Shelia that you're a man. Do that and she will return home with you tonight, unsullied, and whole again. I will remove her insatiable lust for me and return her petty love to you. You'll then wake up in bed believing this to be a dream, and your world will right itself as if it never tilted."

"And how do you propose I prove myself?"

"I'll give you the same deal given to all others. Fuck the pregnant maid—like a man and then ejaculate in her. Simple intercourse, nothing more."

"You want me to screw another woman to prove I'm a man? That's preposterous."

"Those are my terms. You can either do that or sit quietly in anguish watching me ravish your wife in front of you. I'm a beneficent master providing you a resolution. It's an easy bargain requiring you to perform one action."

"It's too straightforward. You wouldn't make it that easy. There has to be a catch."

"Of course, why would I go through the trouble of acquiring your wife if there wasn't one. I've provided you an out that is achievable, and I stand to lose a precious asset in the process. I'm not obligated to reveal the truth and your time is up. A simple yes or no will suffice."

The whole concept of fucking the maid to prove my manliness was crazy. But the man said he'd reverse what he'd done to my wife and our lives would return to normal. I was only tasked to plunge my dick into the woman's hole and hump her until I came. An aroused man could do that blindfolded regardless of any tricks devised.

I only had one last question. "What happens if I fail?"

"You'll be property. Playthings serving my every desire for an eternity—basically until death. You'll forget your identities by acquiring the persona of willing whores crafted by my hand."

Now confident that I had this game in the bag, I replied, "Yes."

***

PROVING TO BE A MAN

After dropping my trousers and casting off the remainder of my clothing to the floor, I noticed Mr. Johnson rising from the sofa to shed his robe.

"What are you doing?" I said in a panic.

The naked black man shushed me and walked up behind my standing wife.

This wasn't part of the deal and I was freaking out.

I sputtered, "You promised—"

Mr. Johnson abruptly replied, "I vowed that her tender pussy would remain untouched by my big black cock until you failed. I did not agree to restrict my molestation of her while you fornicated with the maid. Her juices must be flowing for the very moment you inevitably fail your task."

Shelia eyed me with disinterest as the man wrapped his hairy black arms around her chest.

As he began unbuttoning her blouse, my stomach churned and my inner voice screamed, do something!

That thought dissipated into dismay at my wife's action to voluntarily unzip her skirt and drop it to the floor.

I felt faint, unable to comprehend the surreal spectacle playing out before me.

To be forced to watch another man undress my wife and then see her helping him was traumatizing.

I meekly muttered, "No," as Shelia slid her panties to the floor.

Now I felt an urgency to complete this insane mission before it went any further. There was only one path leading to a victory. However, when his rugged hand slithered across her stomach above her pubic mound I froze.

Then I gasped.

He eyed me and smirked as his hand brushed the tip of a finger across my wife's clit.

She squirmed to his touch and I lost it.

I screamed, "Bring the damn maid, I'm fucking the hell out of her!"

Relief. That's what I experienced when Shelia's molester removed his pleasuring finger from her nub. It was the one spot that motivated her to behave slutty. Teasing it with the tip of my tongue never failed to get her off and it didn't take much to do it. No other man had the right to turn my wife on but me.

He winked and spoke at Shelia's ear loud enough for me to hear. "Darling, did you hear that? Jesse is willing to screw another woman if I stop pleasing you."

"Please touch me!" she pleaded.

I growled, "Let's get this over with before I murder you."

Mr. Johnson chuckled while signaling with his right hand.

Betty the maid waddled into view and rushed up to me to drop several pillows to the floor. Her eagerness to submit to this degradation gave me the impression she had been denied sex for months. The woman was so out of sorts that she didn't seem to care who fucked her.

Having been permitted to have intercourse with a stranger without repercussion in front of my wife did have a quirky appeal. The idea stirred my arousal and gave me confidence that I could achieve success to quickly conclude this tragedy.

That surge of elation puttered to an abrupt stop the moment I collated the woman's age to be the equivalent to my 49-year-old mom.

My distressed gaze shifted to the monster fondling my wife and I began to sob.

Mr. Johnson leaned over Shelia's shoulder to stare at me while kneading her boobs in his beefy hands. That act alone increased my distress.

It didn't matter which direction I turned to avoid one dilemma over another.

I banged my fists against my head and blubbered, "You tricked me."

The cheater jiggled my wife's knockers before my eyes to taunt me further.

I groaned and reluctantly turned to look at Betty.

The woman stood naked, horny, and pregnant. Wetness trickled down her thigh and that added another chink to the appalling image before me.

"She can't be real," I screeched.

Yet, reality stood before me and it existed. I had committed myself to hump this woman until ejaculation and that thought now sickened me. My erection ebbed because the woman was the spitting image of my mother.

As my penis dangled limply between my legs, I wailed, "This isn't fair!"

Betty refused to wait and plopped her naked ass on top of the pillows. She arched her pelvis up to give me full access to her sodden twat and begged me to fuck her.

My frantic eyes rapidly bounced from my mom's face, her floppy utters, and her gaping wet snatch.

"I can't do this," I blathered and then bawled, "You set me up!"

Mr. Johnson replied, "Darling, I never said I would make it easy. But your anguish pulls at my heart. I'll give you a clue. Betty's not your mother. Does that help? A real man would scramble on top of the slut and plunge his prick into her gash."

"I only see my mom, you bastard. I can't get hard!" I cried.

The fiend moved his hand down to gingerly rub my wife's pussy once again and said, "I agree, you've been placed in a horrible position. I'll finger your wife again to give you an incentive."

I was miserable and on the cusp of making a decision that would doom my wife to an atrocious fate. No, I couldn't leave her with that man to save myself. Such an act would be the end of me, and I couldn't live with myself. I had only to prove myself a man to win her heart back.

The potential loss of my wife and the ending of my life rekindled my determination and hope.

And then a melodic chorus reached my ears.

My antagonist was playing with Shelia's twat like it was a musical instrument. She moaned and groaned in a cadence of sound specifically crafted as a morbid piece for me.

Despair overwhelmed me and utterly shattered my courage.

Over the noise, Mr. Johnson yelled, "Jesse, tick-tock, you are most definitely on a clock. It's not because I put you on a timer. It's because your wife has done so."

"What?" I retorted.

"Sheila is a grown woman and can make her own choices. The instant she decides to bury my cock in her snatch by her own hands, she brands herself my slut. She becomes my property and it doesn't breach our agreement. I suggest you get over your repulsion and fuck your mom before your wife runs out your clock."

The deceitful beast was stimulating her for that very reason.

The enormous pressure to sexually perform on a woman that appeared to be my mom was driving me towards hysteria.

I shrieked, "You've stacked the deck against me!"

Then silence.

Mr. Johnson ceased finger-banging her into a frenzy and removed his hands.

Shelia stood naked, frigid, and dazed. Her mouth gasped as she mumbled crazily under her breath.

The villain broke the stillness by replying, "Oh, dear me, I see it now. It was dreadfully underhanded of me to make you perceive Betty to your mom. To force you to watch me molest your wife, well, that's dastardly. A man would also find it impossible to get it up when constrained by time. I must rectify the imbalance and make amends. I will provide you a guaranteed solution that solves your erection problem."

The man had masterfully manipulated me into a state of desperation where I would grasp at any remedy.

"What is it?" I cried.

"Sally is your salvation. All troubles become minuscule to the pleasures she provides. She has never failed to make a man hard. But it must be your decision to accept her help. A yes or no will suffice."

I unhesitatingly bellowed out, "Yes!"

Mentally, my condition had frazzled to the point that I wouldn't think to question why it had to be my choice. I needed my prick hard and sexy Sally was given as the key to achieving that goal.

Oddly, Betty was distressed by my answer and grumbled, "Now I'll never get fucked."

Since that was the primary reason for my choice, her reaction didn't make sense to me. Even if I wasn't experiencing a psychosis, I wasn't given time to ponder her words.

Sally immediately moved in front of me to obscure my view of Betty and Shelia.

She still wore her lavish robe, but she parted the top portion as she approached. Her knockers bounced into view and blood flowed to my groin.

The woman moved in close to place her hands gently on my shoulders.

She exhibited contradictory expressions of lust and sadness.

Staring into my eyes, she whispered, "Jesse, I'm sorry. You chose wrong," and then sighed, "We all did."

Again, I wasn't given time to contemplate as she hungrily lunged in to clamp her mouth to mine. Thrusting her tongue between my lips, she groped my sex to stimulate it to life.

Her kiss was thrilling, her touch was electrifying.

Sally seemed just as enamored as me as she smooched and pecked kisses upon my cheek.

As she slid downward with intent, she rasped, "You don't know my desperation. To be a leashed whore and be forever horny is unimaginable torment—you're a gift. A man would give their soul to experience such rapture."

Her words were muted as her mouth enveloped my member.

It was uncanny how this woman aroused me by mere touch and now she had me fully in her mouth. The sensation was beyond words and it provoked me to focus entirely on the splendor of the moment. I closed my eyes and groaned while I curled my fingers in her hair.

Sally continued to slurp, gurgle, and slobber with an insatiable zeal.

I tilted my head to admire her as she worked.

Her desirous gaze was already fixed to mine like she was conditioned to always stare up at a man with doe-rounded eyes.

In the glossy reflection of her gape, I saw the masculine features of a man's face shrieking as if he struggled against doing a shameful task against his will.

I gulped at the dreadful image and then ogled the dainty hot blond with big boobs while she gave me fellatio.

There was an odd familiarity between Sally's face and that of the phantasm that caused my bliss to fade.

Unaware of her inner turmoil, Sally smiled at me while running her wet tongue along the length of my dick.

I realized that instant that had been duped again and made to forgot about Shelia, Betty, and the obnoxious bargain that would save us.

My head rose to look at my wife.

I wished I hadn't.

Mr. Johnson's cock was horizontal with the plump head poking out between the gap of Shelia's thighs. With his robust black shank pressed firmly against the slit of her pussy, he was sawing it back and forth to stimulate her into wiggling and moaning.

Mr. Johnson eyed me with amusement while groping her boobs and rubbing his shaft along her cooch. He then laughed and said, "You're running out of time."