Zophie Meets the Neighbor

Story Info
Mr. Beasley entertains Zophie when she's gets locked out.
2.8k words
4.2
11.7k
6
0
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

What has two thumbs and locked herself out of the house?

Yeah.

I wake up alone in the house. Mom and Kevin have already left for work. The triplets are... somewhere. I think Buster, the youngest, had mentioned something about a convention, or concert? Something that started with a "C". Anyway, they wouldn't be back until Monday whatever it was. I slept like the dead after I left Wayne's last night but didn't seem to rest at all! Might have to do with the dreams I'm still having. I've stopped with the Fox and moved on to the Coyote. He's a little rougher, spanking me, ordering me around, pulling my hair and stuff. I love it, and the audience does too. (Yeah, we're still doing it onstage in a theater. Dreams are weird.) I'm also finding out I'm much more flexible than I thought... in my dreams anyway!

I've barely taken a bite of my breakfast burrito when someone rings the doorbell. I look a hot mess, but don't care, so I pad over in my pajamas and answer it. It's a delivery guy, who thrusts a huge package at me! (Oh, get your mind out of the gutter! I'm not going to be sleeping with him!) For one, he's human, and I'm not attracted to...My deal with Wayne doesn't cover humans! Second, who does that? That's like a dirty movie scenario, and I would never give it up so easily. I mean... Okay, I gave the pizza guy a blowjob the other night, but he got to Wayne's place super-fast, delivered it right to the bedroom window, and neither one of us had money for a tip. Wayne, who was a Jaguar that night, found it so hot he banged me from behind while I did it.

I sign for the package after setting it inside the door. As the driver leaves a gust yanks the burrito wrapper out of my hand. I chase it across the yard so we don't get a nasty e-mail from the Homeowners' Association. Mrs. Kerr, Wayne's Mom, sits on the board for it, and she is nasty about pointing out violations. I walk back to the porch and discover the door has swung shut. No problem. I'll just get my key... my key...Where is? Crap! Okay, I'll walk around to the back of the house and go in through the basement. I'm sure I left that unlocked when I came home last night.

Nope.

Alright, don't panic. Call Mom... on your phone that's still plugged into the charger next to your bed. Or walk to Wayne's house and call from there. Once there resist urge to scream and curse when you remember he's gone to Tennessee to visit his Grandma for the weekend. Okay, new plan. Sit in a pool chair and sulk while the sun bakes your brains out. An hour later I feel like my luck is changing when the sun disappears behind some clouds. Some nasty looking, pitch black clouds that are rolling in fast! FYI, the umbrella in a pool patio set does jack-all at keeping rain off you. Learned that the hard way. I'm starting to freak out a little. Clouds this dark usually mean a thunderstorm. I hate thunderstorms. I'm completely soaked and miserable when I hear a man's voice behind me.

"You okay?" I react quickly, squawking bravely while leaping out my chair with the fierce grace of a drunken toddler to faceplant in the grass while cracking my elbow on the table. (Yeah, I'm talented like that. Jealous?) A strong hand pulls me to my feet. "Saw you out here earlier and figured you were just enjoying a pretty day. When I saw you were still out here I figured we had a problem." I look up into Mr. Beasley's kind eyes and concerned smile. He's a Black Bear Zoe that lives next door with his family. He's dressed in a white button up shirt and charcoal slacks with a red tie, which makes his yellow rain boots look even more ridiculous when I notice them. "So, What's wrong?" I explain the situation, barely avoiding bursting into tears while doing so, and show off my bruised elbow. He nods slowly, "Mmm-hmmm. Well, Let's get you out of the rain, and patched up, and then we can think of a plan. C'mon."

I follow him back to his house, huddling close under his large umbrella. He gives off a lot of body heat, so I overcome my usual nature to get closer to him than I've been with my step-family. Once inside his kitchen he makes me wait there, dripping on their nice hardwood, while he grabs me some towels and something to wear. He leaves while I change and dry off as best as I can. I pull on the shirt he gave me, emblazoned with the Washington Roothogs mascot and logo, and make sure it covers all my bits. (I'm going commando under this thing! I'm literally wringing water out of my underwear!) Once I give him the all clear he takes my wet clothes to the laundry room. He comes back with a first aid kit. "Let's take a look at that elbow." He picks me up and sets me on the table.

"Ow!" I wince while he cleans the wound. I give him the once over while he patches me up. He's got the Dad Bod thing going on, but there's still a lot of power in those arms. I wouldn't stand a chance if he decided to take me. He smiles, and I feel myself getting wet. Shit! He's married! I'm not ruining a marriage! A thunderclap rolls through, shattering my train of thought and rattling the house. I'm shivering from more than just the rain now. A huge flash of lightning makes me squeal and plunges the neighborhood into darkness. Mr. Beasley wraps his arms around me while trying to calm my nerves.

"It's okay," he coos. "We're safe in the house. Just relax. We'll try and find something to take your mind off the storm, okay?" I look up into his kind face, and nod. He slips a hand under the oversize shirt he gave me to grope my ass. I don't hide the shock, or confusion, that makes me feel. His smile has changed as well, going from reassuring to predatory. I gasp when his other hand slides up my belly to pinch my nipples. "Oof, took after your Momma, didn't you?" He releases my butt and slides a thick finger into my already wet pussy. I groan. He chuckles, "Yep, Just like your Momma." He nips my earlobe. "I remember seeing you in those commercials. How cute you were talking about Daddy's company, and how he makes people rich..." My stomach drops.

"You do?" I swallow nervously.

"Yeah," he growls. "I lost a lot of money to that bastard." He grabs my jaw, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "A lot of money." A lightning flash punctuates the statement, illuminating the hard look he's giving me. "He steps back, clothes starting to come off. "I wanted revenge. I wanted to make him suffer. I wasn't sure how I could ever do that, until you moved in, right next door." He growls. "Seeing you across the fence day after day. Knowing you're a supremacist bitch like that Kerr woman." He exhales sharply, "Whoo, Just makes this so much sweeter. See, I'll never get your Daddy alone to pound the money out of his ass." He stands naked, his thick cock with its flared head standing over pendulous black balls. "But I can pound it out of yours. Every. Last. Fucking. Penny."

"Oh?" I can't keep a quiver out of my voice. Is he really gonna... I mean, he wouldn't... Would he?

"Yeah," he nods. "Well, that was the plan, but now I've got to know you a little?" He shrugs. "I'll make a deal with you. You want me to stop? Say so. Tell me no. Tell me to get dressed, and we'll play board games or something until the storm passes." He snorts, "Otherwise, I'm going to spend the afternoon breaking your little pussy on my fucking cock." He crosses his arms, "So what'll be?"

My body tingles all over, but whether it's fear or anticipation I'll never know. Mr. Beasley is exactly the person I've been dreaming about helping. If there's anyone I can't say no to, it's him. Still, I hesitate at following through with it. He's married, and got that gut, and he's a Zoe... NO! There's only one way to erase my guilt, so I have to give myself to him! Besides the look on his face doesn't make it seem like he would take no for an answer. With a sigh I peel off the oversized shirt he gave me, dropping it to the floor. "Well, it's too dark to see the dice," I smile innocently. "So, I say no to the board games."

He's on me in an instant, knocking me onto my back and pinning my arms above my head with one powerful paw. I moan through clenched teeth as he parts my slick folds with his stiff rod. He's huge. The biggest I've ever had, but I know other Beasts are even larger. With a growl he starts hammering my pussy like he owns it. "I didn't think you were into this shit," he laughs. "Good, clean, Human girl like you getting fucked by... What did your Dad call us? Oh, Filthy, degenerate subhuman monsters." I buck, and scream under his massive body, overwhelmed by the sensations radiating from my pussy. Sharp teeth nip my ear, making me squeal. He growls, "I wish he could see this. See his pride and joy reduced to nothing more than a Species Traitor. Isn't that what he called people who do this?" I don't answer, my mind subsumed with lust and pleasure. My cries of passion barely drowned out by the raging storm outside. The orgasm rips away any hesitation or lingering doubts about my decision. "Yeah, you love it. the best human fucks I ever had were supremacist pussy! " I don't know how the table hasn't collapsed from the pounding I'm taking. He grunts, "Your... kind... just... LOVE THE...THE BEAST COCK!! His balls draw up and empty into my ravaged hole until his warm seed runs out of me. He steps back, smiling triumphantly while I try to catch my breath.

"I..." I lick my lips, tasting the salty sweat on them. "I think I need some water." He laughs, pulling me by the hair off the table and laying me across a counter. He grabs my ankles, holding my legs up while he rails me from behind. I grip the cold stainless steel, groaning through another orgasm while he slams his flared dick into me with a vengeance. Part of me is petrified of what he might... what he is going to do to me. Another part is excited at the uncertainty of it all. This is what I want, what I need, to lift the burden of guilt from my soul. Let him slake his need for revenge on me, this way. Let me be punished for my part in the crimes. The idea that I'm nothing but a tool for his anger, and I'm okay with it, is probably unhealthy. He's not attracted to me. He's not doing this out of lust. I'm nothing to him. Just a cocksheath to abuse and fill with his spunk. Heaven help me but way down a part of me finds that sooo hot!

With a deafening roar he finishes deep inside me, dropping me to the floor when he pulls out. I lay against the cabinet, too weak to move. He stands over me, lightning revealing the nasty smirk on his face. "It'll be hours before anyone gets home, Girly, so buckle up. We're just getting started." I nod, giving myself over completely to him, and his wishes. Because I must, not because I'm enjoying it and want him to keep doing it. (Okay, maybe...MAYBE I, might, be enjoying it... a little.) He fills a glass with water, and hands it to me. I drink it all in one gulp. "Need some more?" he asks when I hand the glass back. I nod. I drink two more glasses before I lose my dry mouth. "Okay," he nods, "Ready to continue?"

"Yep," I smile. He grabs a handful of hair and forces me into the Living Room. He throws me onto the floor before sitting on the leather sofa. He pats his thighs, "Why don't you come sit in my lap? Make me forget about all the money your commercials made me invest." I crawl to him, climbing up his thick body, nuzzling into his soft fur while impaling myself on his massive cock. He groans his approval. I kneel on his burly legs, grinding my sex on his pole. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close to lick, and nibble, my hard nipples. I urge him on, fragments of words mixed with whimpers and moans, lost in the raw sensation emanating from between my legs. He cums, but I don't stop, riding him until I grip the couch with desperate fingers, explosions of blissful joy echoing through my head. He grabs my hips, forcing me down, guiding me until his seed fills my aching pussy once more. I slide off him, nestle my head in his chest, and just lie there.

After a few minutes he lays me back, positioning himself between my legs once again. We spend the whole afternoon this way, the rain pounding the roof with an intensity Mr. Beasley easily matches. We exist in an eerie half-light, only flashes of lightning illuminating our carnal embraces, throwing our filthy silhouettes against the walls of his home. I break long before the storm, subsuming myself completely to my base desires, and matching him with my need for raw physical pleasure. The thunder itself seems muted next to the sounds of our desires, and releases. At last the storm, and our indecent deeds, come to an end, and I slid off the couch completely drained.

I blink and open my eyes to Mrs. Beasley standing over my naked, cum covered body. I scream, trying to cover myself while crawling away from her. I don't get far before her furry hand grabs my arm, hauling me to my feet and preventing me from running. She looks me up and down, a triumphant smirk on her face. "So, here's the deal," she says. "I have my Ladies Night every Thursday. I don't get home until about 9:30, so YOU are going to be over here every Thursday from about 5:30 until about 9:00 working off the money we're owed. Understood?" I nod, too scared to speak. "Good," she says while shoving a piece of paper in my hand. "This is a price list that your Momma made up years ago with the amount we lost on it. I hope you're smart enough to figure out what you need to do." She leans in close, "And don't worry, no one will know about it."

My mind races with questions. Why would Mom have a list of sex acts and prices for each one? What is going on? Is she really okay with me and her husband hooking up every week? I finally find my voice and squeak, "Okay." She shoves my dry clothes at me. I look down at myself. "Uhm, Could I use your shower before I go?" I smile weakly praying the answer is yes. Her laughter is all the answer I need. I slip my clothes on, head out the back door, and rush across the yard to the house. I peek in through the glass doors into the kitchen and spot Mom. I get her attention and sprint downstairs and into the shower before she can ask questions. I find her waiting when I get out. I could lie, but why bother? I explain the whole situation to her from the dreams to Mr. Beasley's deal. She nods, taking a long time to say anything.

"Well," she exhales, "I wouldn't have chosen that as a method for dealing with your guilt. I don't even understand why you feel guilty, but... I'll help you if this is what you feel you need to do." She puts her arm around me, "I love you, Honey, and I had plans for you before your Dad and I split up. Big dreams for your life." She kisses my forehead. "But it's your life, and I'll let you make the decisions. I mean it could be worse. At least you're not drinking too much or getting strung out on sketchy potions. It'll be all right. We'll work through this together." I smile, snuggling closer to her. For the first time I feel like this is my home. I feel like a part of THIS family. I don't know if it's because of what I'm doing, but I'll take it.

I hope I can work up the courage to ask her about the list eventually.

Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
Share this Story

Similar Stories

I am Yours Her reluctant betrayal comes at great cost.in Loving Wives
Jess Succumbs Pt. 01 My drunk wife at house party alone loses her inhibitions.in Loving Wives
One Night in Fort Liquordale Spring Break trip gets more wild than expected.in Loving Wives
Fools at the Altar Marriage didn’t turn out how they pictured it.in Loving Wives
100 Minutes His wife takes the bet.in Loving Wives
More Stories