The Good Neighbors Ch. 19

Tommy woke in the dark on another unfamiliar bed, bare naked, and desperately needing to piss. He rolled off the bed and fell to his knees with a gasp.

It was like he'd been fucked with a baseball bat.

Cold air seeped inside the gaped hole. A pulse trembled through the rim, and his muscles gripped down hard like a closing fist, making him squeak despite himself.

Sucking in air, he crawled to the bathroom door on all fours, climbed onto the toilet, and let his bladder go with a pitiful moan.

He glared down between his legs. His cock looked nearly rubbed raw. The skin of it was still puffy and oddly warm.

"Was that you, dear?" a soft voice called out from the hallway.

Mrs. Miller popped her head into the bathroom. "Did you say something?"

He shook his head miserably and rested it against the cold sink. She clucked her tongue at him and stepped inside anyway.

She wore a pale pink robe around her shoulders, pulled tight around the waist. Her hair was loose like she'd been sleeping, and her makeup was all gone now.

"I told him not to be so rough with you," she sighed. "You boys don't seem to know your limits."

Tommy grunted. "I didn't mean to wake you up," he added when she didn't leave.

After a moment, she sighed and went to wet a washcloth. She pressed it against his forehead, shaking her head with disapproval.

"Well, nothing to be done about it now. You just go back to sleep when you're done here, honey. Do you need help wiping up?"

Tommy shook his head. "I don't think I can sleep anymore. I should probably get-"

Before he could finish talking, she slipped her robe open with a sigh and pressed a heavy nipple between his lips.

He sucked at it without thinking, stroking her with the tip of his tongue on instinct. The world went hazy as the pain faded into the background. His eyelids drooped lower.

"Better?" she asked after a moment.

His tongue continued to work at her.

"Do you think you can go back to sleep now, honey?" she pressed on.

After a time, he nodded reluctantly, and she guided him by the hand back to bed.

When he woke again, the afternoon sun streamed in through the edge of the blinds. His body was stiff, like hours had passed by as he lay there like a statue.

Another spasm squeezed his rectum like a vice.

"Fuck," he gasped.

He rolled from the mattress to the floor again and gathered up his clothes. He could feel the hole still gaping and pressing against his briefs. By the time he was dressed, a slick of sweat ran down his back and stuck to his shirt.

Someone had left a glass of water and a trio of pills on the nightstand beside his phone. He downed them quickly without looking and collapsed back against the sheets to read through his messages.

His parents, strangely enough, had only sent him a single text.

"Miss you," his mom had written. No questions about where he'd been, why he had suddenly disappeared, or how he was doing.

Tommy shook his head and read on through the rest. Most of it was low-effort attempts at conversation from unknown numbers. It was likely just bored and horny old men. The messages were sprinkled with the occasional dick pic or porn link.

He scrolled on, neither reading nor deleting much of it. He spotted a name he recognized. Mrs. Clark. She had sent it the night before while he must have been in the shower.

When he had seen her last, he had just broken up the woman's marriage. And he had spent the next evening fucking her in every way he could dream up.

She had always treated him like a human being, though, and not just some toy. It was more than he could say about everyone else.

"Hello again," Mrs. Clark wrote. "If you are free, would you like to have dinner at my place tomorrow night? I would like to catch up. Hope all is well -Tabby".

Tommy grinned at the screen. "Absolutely," he wrote back. "Just let me know the address. I have my own car now, so I can be there any time."

He waited at the edge of the bed until she replied.

"Sure," she wrote. "6 pm?" She attached the address.

"I'll be there," he replied.

His grin faltered when he saw the clock in the corner of his screen. It was already three in the afternoon.

Tommy limped quickly to the shower and turned the water up to boiling. It took a long time before he felt clean. He emerged again ten minutes later, pink and relatively pristine. He pulled his loose pile of earnings out of his bag and counted out five thousand dollars.

His face dropped at the sight of it. It was a larger chunk of his savings than he had thought. It seemed like endless wealth a minute ago, too.

It looked like he was still going to need a real job after all this.

At least he was still coming out ahead, he thought. It should have taken him all year to get a car and still save up this much.

Sucking in a breath, he opened the door to the bedroom and made his way as quickly as he could to the kitchen. Mrs. Miller was folding laundry in the living room, her eyes on the television, her husband nowhere in sight.

"Good morning, sleepy," she called over.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to stay so late," he said.

He walked to the kitchen counter and held up his wad of bills. "Are we still okay for the car?"

Mrs. Miller turned and glided over at him with a raised eyebrow, still folding a sheet between her hands. "Oh, were you buying a car, dear?"

Dread washed over him quickly. They weren't going to let him just take the keys and disappear. They were going to drag it out again. He could feel it.

"Yeah, I-"

She cut him off. "Adam's got so many of them blocking up the driveway out back, I don't even keep track."

"Like... Wait, what?"

"From the lot. At work," she added, when he didn't seem to be following. "He's a car dealer, Tommy. You knew that."

Tommy shook his head.

Mrs. Miller looked him up and down. "It's almost like we never talk anymore," she sighed. "Well, the lot gets too full, and Adam brings them home, shuffles them around, or something. They make it very difficult to get the trash cans out."

Tommy watched her glide back to the living room. She set the folded sheet down onto the stack and went back to the basket, her eye on the television once more.

"So, the car?" Tommy called over.

"Oh, the keys should be in the garage, dear, on the wall. I'll remind Adam to mail you over the papers. Did you want any breakfast, honey?" she called over.

Tommy gave a silent whistle and tossed the cash onto the counter without replying.

He found the door to the garage on the other side of the house. The keys were on a pegboard, as promised, all unmarked. Tommy worked through the fobs until he found the right one.

He took a moment to appreciate how little a new car meant to these people, then popped open the gate and headed down to the street.

There, just in front, was his beautiful new ride. His ticket out of there.

Even the campus back at school didn't seem far enough away at the moment.

Twenty minutes of traffic later, in a patch of suburbs farther to the south than he'd ever been, Tommy pulled into the driveway of a home that didn't look very different from the one he had grown up in.

It was a squat little brick house, set behind bushes that had gotten a bit of hand. A pack of neighborhood kids flew down the street on rollerblades, squealing in delight. A couple his parents' age were out on their porch. He gave them a wave and they nodded back. He could still feel their eyes on his back as he knocked at Mrs. Clark's door.

"Tommy," she breathed a moment later, pulling the door open wide as he stepped inside. "It's good to see you again."

He gave a grin that he wasn't entirely feeling. "It's good to see you, too."

She looked different than he remembered. When they had run off together, or even before that, there had been something in her eyes. Some kind of youthful, pent-up life that was eager to spill out. As she stepped out of the way to let him inside, though, all he could see were the dark folds of her face.

She looked deflated, like she hadn't slept since he'd seen her last. She wore a loose shirt and yoga pants that she looked like she had spent the day in, but her face was made up and she smelled like perfume.

"How've you been?" she asked, easing the door back shut.

"Good," he replied, nodding as he looked around the place.

The silence dragged out between them as he went on looking everywhere but at her sad, wrinkled face. "Good," he choked out again.

"Wine?"

He nodded quickly.

It took a full glass before either of them spoke again. She took a seat on a bar stool at the kitchen counter and poured them both another.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I missed talking to you," he said. "I was hoping you were okay."

Mrs. Clark gave him a tight smile and downed half the wine in her glass. "Well," she started. Now it was her turn to look everywhere else. "Yeah."

"Not just because of the sex," Tommy went on.

Her eyes met his finally. "I mean, I thought it was incredible, at least," he added. "But I also just liked being around you. I missed talking to you."

It seemed like the right thing to say.

She gave a tight smile, and some of the life flashed back into her eyes. She started to talk, but froze again, and downed her drink instead.

Tommy watched her for a moment, puzzling over what to say next that might loosen her up.

"So, has your husband been giving you any more trouble?"

"It's embarrassing," she said quietly.

Tommy gave her a confused look. It seemed natural enough that her husband would be an asshole about things. That wasn't embarrassing.

"I'm old," she said carefully. "And you're half my age. I'm embarrassed." A flush bloomed from her chest up to her ears all at once. "I just get so lonely at night, though. The house is so empty. Everyone's gone. I know I shouldn't have sent that message to you."

She shook her head, and Tommy noticed with sudden dread that tears were welling in her eyes. It wasn't at all how he had expected the night to go.

He waited to see if she would say more, but she only shook her head and poured herself another glass with an ominous sniffle.

"Your husband's the only one that should be embarrassed," Tommy said slowly. "You were his wife. He didn't care about your happiness. He had nothing nice to say to you. Everyone saw that. All he cared about was chasing girls half his age. Everyone knows he doesn't deserve you. I don't think any of your friends are judging you like that. I think they would want you to have fun."

She raised her glass with a shaky hand and took another long gulp without looking at him.

"It's not shameful to spend time with someone that cares about you, and to care about them, and to make each other feel better. I'm an adult. You're an adult. We're not hurting anyone. We have fun together. That's not wrong.

"I mean, your friends hired me to have sex with them all weekend. They weren't embarrassed by that," he added. He didn't know why he had to explain this to her.

He reached out his hand from across the counter, hoping she'd take it.

"I hope you don't just think of me as some child, at least."

She hesitated, and reached out her hand toward his. But at the last moment, she froze and went for the wine again instead.

"I don't know what I think anymore," she said pitifully.

Tommy watched the lines of her mouth quiver, and he nodded.

This town was suffocating, he thought. Their little swingers group was poison.

Maybe they had all been decent people once, like Mrs. Clark, but those people... Whatever they were doing ate away at them. It killed off any morality they might have had once.

His own was tattered and failing already.

He found another bottle of wine on the shelf, tore out the cork, and filled her glass to the brim. When she finished it, he poured her another.

"I don't-" she mumbled, already sagging in her seat.

"Drink it," he told her. She took a cautious sip and looked away.

Was it the right thing to do, he wondered. Was this for her benefit? Is that what people in the group tell themselves?

He shook his head, entirely unsure as he turned her on the bar stool toward him. With one tug, he slid her pants down to the ankles. She didn't say a word as he peeled her legs open and nestled his lips against hers.

She wasn't wet, but he lapped at her slowly, trusting he could get her there.

After a time, she began to pant, rocking against him in her seat.

And then she slowed. When he peeked up at her, she was red-faced and teary-eyed again, looking at the ceiling. She hardly seemed to notice when he pulled his mouth off of her.

She wavered on the stool, still watching the ceiling, clutching her drink loosely.

When she didn't move, unsure of what else to do, Tommy reached for her hand and pulled her onto shaky legs. He led her to the hallway, found the first bedroom, and gently pushed her onto the covers. He stripped off his clothes.

She lay sprawled across the sheets, weakly trying to climb onto all fours as he approached. He eased onto the bed behind her, lifted her hips into the air, and mounted her.

She was dry as a bone. He had to work inside slowly, rocking his hips against her, fighting for every inch.

By the time he had worked all the way inside, with his sack slapping against the hairy lips of her cunt, he was ready to blow.

He held her tight, pinning her still with both arms and legs, and he blew his load deep inside of her. She squeezed the length of him as he finished, but otherwise laid motionless beneath him.

After a time, his cock slid out of her, nestling between the lips of her. She was wet now, wet from his cum as it bubbled and oozed back out of her. And she was warm. It didn't take long for his cock to swell back to life against her. He ground between the length of her sticky folds, eager to cum inside her again.

He pawed at her tits, waiting for her to stir back awake.

When she didn't, little by little, he slowly drifted off to sleep on top of her.

Sometime in the night, he blinked awake to the sound of her quietly sobbing. He was on his back, and she was on the other side of the bed. When he tried to reach for her, she pulled away from him.

He watched the ceiling in silence.

He had to get out of this town, he thought. It was only going to get worse. For all of them.

Their little group was just going to pull in more and more people, feeding off their happiness and decency.

Mrs. Clark wept beside him as he drifted back to sleep.

Just before dawn, she rolled onto him, waking him up again, and she pressed her lips to his. Her tongue slipped in, stroking against his fiercely, nearly gagging him.

A few moments later, she eased herself onto his lap. She rode him until he burst again, and she kept on riding. With her eyes clenched tight, and sweat dripping from her temple, she rocked steadily against his hips.

Tommy was ready to blow when she suddenly came to a shrieking halt. The sound of it pushed him over the edge once more, and he bucked hard beneath her, nearly spilling her off to the side.

Gasping for breath, she collapsed against his shoulder.

They lay in silence for a long time, both of them trying to catch their breath.

"You better not get me pregnant," she whispered, with a dry laugh.

Tommy blinked back at her in the dark, a dull look across his face. She was asleep before he could think of a reply.