The Good Neighbors Ch. 13

"You are just every bit as cute as I remember," Mrs. Greene purred.

"Isn't he, Doris?" Tommy's mother sighed.

Instinct told him to run. But to where? Tabby was long gone by now. And if he ran to his bedroom and locked the door, he was unlikely to ever live the shame of it down.

The Hastings. He could hide at their house until this was over.

"Hello," he choked out. "Nice to meet you."

His mother frowned quickly. "You've already met. She was just telling me how sweet you were to help at the Hastings' party."

Tommy opened his mouth, and shut it again. "Well, I'm going to swim," he said, and he dashed back toward the hall.

"Over at the Hastings?" his mother called back.

"Uh huh."

"Oh my! So much energy!" he heard Mrs. Greene laughed.

His insides squeezed together uncomfortably, driving the air out of him. He kicked the door of his bedroom closed as cold sweat beaded up across his body.

How much had the woman already told her? Jesus, he thought, she was friends with Mrs. Hastings. She was in the group. The way they all gossiped, she probably knew everything he'd ever done. It had been bad enough when he was just worried about his parents getting dragged into the club.

And the sex tape! They had already been sharing it around with everyone in the group. It would only take one of those idiots to let it slip, or to share it to the wrong person, who shared it to the wrong person... His life depended on dozens of horny Boomers all keeping the secret.

"Fuuuuuck," he hissed around the room, as he sank into a crouch and shook his fists around the room.

He stumbled forward and froze, unsure of what else to do. His fingers felt painfully sore. He forced open his fists and started to pace back and forth in the two feet of open room.

He had money. He could run. Someone would take me in, he thought. But who? Tammy? Would she be staying with her husband until they divorced? Would they divorce? Did she already have children staying with her?

He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at it until he could focus again. How did he not know these things about her? Why did his heart hurt like this? Was it a heart attack?

The Hastings, he remembered again. I'm supposed to be changing.

Tommy found his swim trunks at the bottom of the dresser. He stripped and put them on without thinking. He was on pure autopilot as he mentally walked himself through the complete collapse of his life and every relationship in it.

Shrill laughter rung out from the kitchen. God, what were they talking about now? Was Mrs. Greene telling his mother about how hard little Tommy had come with a finger on his prostate?

The sight of Mrs. Greene on all fours came back to him unbidden: her mouth between Mrs. Hastings' legs, licking away at the woman's cunt in desperate, hungry need. Mrs. Hastings' animal moans rose to a deafening roar. The sheer ecstasy on the woman's face as Mrs. Greene lapped her up.

His cock jutted up hard against his swim trunks, tugging at the fabric. The panic vanished for the briefest moment.

He glared downward at it, willing it to back to sleep.

As he waited, another memory flashed by: Mrs. Greene laying before him on her back, and him pumping his fingers into her slit. Warm and slippery wet as she squeezed him tight enough to make his fingers ache. And the way she bucked against the sheets as he brought her to orgasm. The smell of her on his fingers afterward, and the taste...

There was no helping it. He reached into his top drawer and yanked his shorts down to the knees. His fist worked in a furious blur. A minute later, he was doubled over beside the dresser, spraying his load down the length of an old sock.

The fabric inside suddenly felt coarse and uncomfortable. He squeezed out another drop, then launched the used rag into the laundry bin. He slipped the shorts back in place, suddenly feeling much calmer. He could focus again.

One step at a time.

He headed back down the hall. The women were laughing and giggling together. It was a little too closely for his comfort, but at least they were still sober for the moment.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said, waving as he passed.

"Oh, hold on. Real quick," his mother called out. Tommy took a few steps back toward the kitchen. "Doris here, she said she was needing someone to help her pack up some old boxes. Not today, but sometime this week. Would you mind?"

His eyes ran back up Mrs. Greene. A distant part of his mind remembered that breasts were bigger than her head, and the feeling of drowning between them as she straddled his hips and rode him with furious abandon. His cock flopped weakly, trying to rouse itself back to life.

"Of course," he said. "I might need a ride, though."

"Oh, such a gentleman! I'll give you a call. Your mother already gave me your number."

"You can text me anytime," he said, doing his best to keep a passive face.

It occurred to him, in that moment, that perhaps he wasn't always being pressured into sex from all these couples. Perhaps he just liked sex.

With that in mind, he rang the Hastings' bell and begged to use their pool. "It's been a very long three days," he explained.

Two minutes later, he was on a raft with a foaming cup of Coke in his hands, frying in the heat of the day. Mrs. Hastings was sitting in a pool chair not far away, hidden beneath a wide hat and large sunglasses.

"So," she began, "tell me all about it."

He told her the story of his brief vacation from the beginning, starting from his car ride with the Halls. He left out some of the more explicit details along the way. Even after everything else, in the light of day it was hard to think of Mrs. Hastings as anything other than the kindly older woman who lived next door.

By the time he reached Mr. Clark storming off, he found he wasn't too annoyed about the trip anymore. It hadn't been a bad time for him, at least.

"Don't you worry about Dave," she told him. "I told you, I thought they were already divorced."

"His wife is really sweet, though. I do feel bad for her."

"She's a lot better off without him. Not that it's my place to say."

"Oh, but then I came home," Tommy went on. "And do you know who's in my kitchen right now?"

"Doris. Why?"

Tommy glowered at her until she lowered her shades. "Why?" she asked again. "Oh, she won't do anything," she added, waving him off.

"Well, she was flirting with me in front of my mother just now."

"That's just how she is," Mrs. Hastings said, pushing her glasses back in place. "Just because we like to have fun, it doesn't mean we're completely clueless, you know. You really think she'd be over there seducing your entire family? Or telling your mother what she's been doing to you?"

"Hey, you're the one who thought my mom needed to be in your little club."

"Oh, don't be like that," she said, waving him off again. "Your mother was lonely and wanted some friends. We do have other interests, for your information. And she's such a lovely woman, your mother. All the girls loved her at brunch the other day."

"And who's everyone?" he asked, sliding from the raft and into the cool water. He kicked his way over to the edge of the pool, closer to her.

"Women with varied interests," she said flatly. "You don't need to hear all about her social life, just like she doesn't need to hear all about yours. Trust me, you'll never in your life find a group of people better suited to keeping up appearances."

He paddled his legs against the open water, not daring to believe it.

"I still feel bad," he said. "I don't like having to worry about it. I want her to have friends, but it only takes one too many drinks, and one sentence and... and then I'd never want to talk to my parents again."

She sat up, but she didn't respond for a long while.

"And the closer she gets with all of you... It's just something I always have to worry about now. There's not a way out of it. I always have to worry about this now," he repeated.

"I promise, I'll swear on my life that none of us will ever tell her about you."

"And what if she finds out what you guys are into?" he asked. "Even if you don't tell her about what I've done, if she knows I'm working at your parties, and that I know everyone there, she's going to put two and two together at some point."

She didn't have an immediate response to that.

"I'm sorry, Tommy."

"Just... could you have a normal party?" he asked. "Just, like, a regular dinner party? And invite my parents? Just so... I don't know. What's it called? Plausible deniability?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, then, if they ever did find out what you guys are doing together, they can still see that you have normal parties, too. And they can tell them themselves, 'Hey, maybe that's the kind of thing Tommy saw. Maybe he wasn't fucking them in the back room of an orgy.'"

She sat up slowly. "Let me get this straight, Tommy: You would want us to invite your parents?" she asked cautiously. "To one of our parties?"

A part of him was suddenly doubtful of the plan. It certainly sounded crazy on the surface. But what other options were there? To have his mother's new friends suddenly cut off all contact with her, with no explanation? Or to just wait for his parents to die, always wondering if they would ever find out his secrets? Always wondering if maybe they already knew?

It made sense... right?

"You would have to invite Mrs. Greene, too. My mom already knows I met her at your last party," he went on. "And you'd have to hire servers, too, so they see it's a normal thing." A wonderful thought suddenly came to mind. "You could hire Erin," he suggested.

"The little blonde girl?" Mrs. Hastings asked. A flicker of amusement crossed her lips.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, debating how to respond. "I mentioned her to my mother already," he lied.

"Uh huh."

"You'd have to make sure the men don't drink too much, though," he went on. "Some of them get very handsy very quickly."

"Oh, they'll behave themselves. We do have 'normal parties', just so you know," she said, gesturing with air quotes. "Some of us just like to have a little extra afterward."

"Well, keep it extra tame all the way through, for my sake. I'll pay you back for it all, too."

"Nonsense," she said with a huff.

"Not nonsense, I'm serious." He pulled himself out of the water and collapsed into the chair next to her. "I know it's a lot of work and money and time. I know not everyone's going to want to come here just to have some snacks and a drink, all to convince my parents that you guys sometimes don't have orgies. But I really don't know what else to do here. I'm going to go out of my mind otherwise. Or run away and never come back. Please tell me if you have another plan. Anything at all?"

"We'll take care of it, Tommy. Don't worry about it anymore." She gave him a kiss on the forehead, then laid back down in her chair.

He laid down, too, and tried to shut his eyes. But fear and impatience and annoyance kept bubbling over. He cast another glance over at Mrs. Hastings. He didn't want to say it, but she was to blame for his family getting involved in the first place.

Or, at least, he didn't want to have to say it again.

Even in her large, cotton pool shirt, he could see the heavy curves of her. He shook his head to try and clear the thought. Her tight shorts barely ran down to her thighs, showing off smooth, tan skin beneath. She eased down lower into the cushion, seeming to drift half asleep.

A wild urge burst through, and suddenly he could see himself grabbing her tits and pressing his face between them. Her mouth drooped open wider as she sank deeper into sleep. He could see her eyelids closed behind her glasses. The thought of shaking her awake, and fucking her right there, right in her wicker chair, ran through his mind.

Would she object, if he just attacked? She'd done worse to him, and with less consent, he thought. He'd be more than justified to take out his cock right now and push it right down her throat.

He swallowed heavily, his breath coming in heavy pants. Already his cock was straining hard against the netting of his swim trunks. The decision was made.

He pried free the wet knot of his suit with this thumbnail. He rolled out of the chair in one silent motion, then stood beside her where her head had lulled toward him. He gripped the hem of his shorts with his thumbs and-

"Hey, Tommy!" a voice cried out behind him.

He shrieked, and turned without thinking, just in time to see Mrs. Greene. She was stepping from behind the high fence and onto the stone patio. His mother was two steps behind her, carrying a load of towels.

Mrs. Hastings snorted back awake beside him, and he dropped into the chair in an instant, both hands covering his tented shorts.

"Do you mind if we join you?" his mother called out.

"Not at all!" Mrs. Hastings called over, clearing her voice and sitting up straight again. "In fact, I was just meaning to go over and tell you, Marty and I want to do a barbecue. You girls interested?"

As it turns out, they were. They were very interested.

Tommy pressed his cock flat, and it jumped eagerly back against his palms. He did his best to give them all a grin. Something that signaled that everything was okay.

It was a good plan, he told himself. Nothing could go wrong. Everything is okay.