It Began with Applesbybeltman70©
Her new neighbour made Carol Wilder nervous.
She didn't know exactly why. John Turner seemed a pleasant enough man. He was soft spoken and even good looking in a sort of rumpled way. But there was something about him, something she occasionally glimpsed in his face or in the hard glint of his blue eyes that said he was not what he seemed. There was something dangerous underneath the surface.
She asked her brother Bob to find out anything he could about their new neighbour. Bob had gone to school with the town's newspaper editor and he could generally find out the good stuff about people. Bob didn't seem to think there was anything unusual about her curiosity. He was curious too. A few days later he told her what the newspaper editor had found out. Their new neighbour had formerly been in the military but there wasn't much information about what he had been doing. The newspaper editor seemed to think it had something to do with statistics or something equally boring.
Bob lost interest but Carol was only more intrigued. She didn't know why but her instincts told her that her new neighbour was no boring mathematician. She made it a point to start leaving her house when she knew he'd be outside, and sometimes she got out and did yard work if she knew he was around. It gave her excuses to talk to him, if only to say good morning.
Deep down she knew she was playing with fire. She knew that a part of her nervousness was that she found him attractive and even that was confusing to her. He was not her type. Because she was tall, she had always dated taller men who made her feel more feminine. But she also dated men she could control. Her boyfriend Morris was an example. He was tall and broad with a great, booming voice but he also followed her around with adoring puppy eyes.
She knew she was attractive but she didn't work at it. Her hair was thick and blonde, her eyes green, and her figure good. She was nearly thirty and had never been married but that wasn't for lack of suitors. She had had several proposals, and Morris had proposed twice, but she wasn't ready to settle down. She worked for a magazine and she travelled a lot and she enjoyed her lifestyle.
John Turner was not as tall as she was and he was thin and wiry. If he wore a suit, it generally needed pressing and his choice of outfit was jeans and a t-shirt. Her boyfriend Morris could yell and make noises like he had things under control, but there was a quiet sense of power and command about John Turner. Carol had the sense that John Turner had commanded men and that he was used to being obeyed.
Women too, probably, Carol thought.
The thought came unbidden to her mind and made her feel funny all over. She did not want to think about John Turner giving commands.
A few weeks after he had moved next door Carol ran into him at the grocery store. She was trying to pick out some grapes when he spoke to her. She jumped in surprise because she hadn't even realized he was there.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he said.
"It's okay," she said. "I didn't see you."
"Sometimes I move a little quietly," he said. "My team used to call me Ghost."
"Your team?" she asked.
He seemed to realize he had said more than he wanted too and he shrugged. "Just some guys I used to hang around with."
She nodded. His eyes moved down her face to the top she wore. She had pulled on a modest top and shorts to do her shopping but the cool air conditioner in the fruit section had made her nipples harden and his eyes enjoyed them. She realized she was blushing. And he was being rude. Of course, men might glance down at her nipples but John was doing it obviously.
"You should buy a few of those apples," he finally said, looking back at her face again.
She glanced over at a few of the red apples that were for sale. They didn't look at all that good. A couple of them were spotted.
"I don't like that type of apple," she said.
"They're healthy," he said. "You should buy them. And eat them yourself."
It was a very strange moment. Here was a man she barely knew practically commanding her to buy bad apples and eat them. There was an unyielding tone in his voice. She looked up at him, flustered, looked back the grapes she was holding.
"Buy the apples," he said, and walked away.
She felt like a fool. She watched his back disappear down the aisles. She shook her head. She went about the rest of her shopping and she didn't see him again. When she was nearly done, she found herself back in the fruit section of the grocery.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she said, but she picked up the apples and put them in her cart.
She took her groceries home and she didn't see her neighbour. She put the things away. She didn't look at the apples. She had no intention of eating them. She would just put them into her fridge and then throw them out later. She still wasn't sure why she'd bought them but she knew she wasn't going to eat them.
She fixed Morris a really nice supper that evening and absolutely nothing with apples. And that night she let Morris stay over and she couldn't believe how needy she was. There was no need for foreplay. She pushed her Morris over on his back, climbed on and rode him like a cowgirl until they both found release. In a few minutes he was in blissful slumber and she was wide away, still feeling urges such as she'd never known before.
"Damn," she said.
She got out bed and went downstairs and tried to watch television for a while but her mind kept wandering. She still felt hot. Her fingers stroked the golden fur between her legs and her fingertips slipped inside her wetness, still puffy from Morris's penetration and his cum and her own juices. She rubbed herself for a while but it only seemed to be added to her need.
Finally, almost in a daze, she got up and went to the kitchen and got one of the mushy apples. She went back to the living room. She dropped all over her clothes on the floor and stretched out on the couch. She put her hand back between her legs as she started eating the apple. God, it was hot. Three fingers in her pussy and she devoured the apple like it was caviar and she screamed as the red hot fire shot through her body and she still didn't completely understand what was happening to her.
During the weekend she devoured the five bad apples, each time with her hand buried between her legs and her mind going places she had never visited before and each time leaving her needier than the time before.
She was pretty certain she was going crazy.
On Monday she called in sick and sat at the kitchen table wishing she had another apple.
She put herself into her work that morning, anything to ease the tension. She cleaned the house from top to bottom and then cleaned it again. She washed, waxed and dusted. At noon she ate a sandwich and took a long, hot shower to wash the sweat away and she dressed in shorts and a clingy halter. She took a long look at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were puffy, her lips swollen. Her hair looked lifeless. In fact, there was not much life in her body.
There was something wrong with her and she wasn't sure what it was. Or maybe she did know and she didn't want to face it.
She thought yard work would help. At least it would give her exercise and tire her out so she wasn't thinking about...well, what she had been thinking about so much that weekend. It was a beautiful summer day and she worked outside cutting grass and trimming hedges. At lunch she stopped and had a sandwich and a soda and then went back to work again, this time in her back yard.
This time John Turner was in his back yard, leaning over the fence that separated their houses, watching her. He didn't even try to pretend he wasn't undressing her with his eyes. In fact, his eyes were like fingers, crawling all over her. She grew angry and the blood rushed to her face but she couldn't find the strength to confront him. She just kept working but in the back of her mind she knew, with all her bending and stretching, she was putting on quite a show for him.
He must have watched her for thirty minutes without saying anything but then he spoke her name.
She wanted to ignore him. Instead she put down the hedge trimmers and walked over to the fence. There were some things she wanted to say to him but the closer she got, the redder her face and she couldn't seem to make the words come out.
"Take your bra off and make it more interesting for me."
Her mouth dropped open in amazement. She was shocked and angered by his presumption but he only gave her a thin smile. No words would come and she turned around and ran back into her house and banged the door shut behind her. She leaned against the door breathing deeply, feeling the sweat run down the crevice between her breasts and thinking about what he had said.
Take her bra off. Of course she wouldn't do such a thing. And yet he said as if he expected her to obey him immediately. It was the apples all over again. He had such a commanding tone in his voice and she had to admit that it somehow made her feel weak and feverish all over. It made her want to obey.
"What is wrong with me?" she asked herself.
She went upstairs and stretched out on the bed. She tried to stop herself but her hands rubbed her breasts and then down between her legs. She was a little sore because of the rough way she had handled herself that weekend but it was a little like she couldn't satisfy herself. Each time she played with herself it was as if the desire grew more intense.
She couldn't help it. She undid her shorts and pulled them down to her knees and her fingers slipped inside her panties and then into her pussy. She humped herself like a cock would have been humping her and her eyes closed and she imagined John Turner on top of her, taking control, punishing her with his cock in the same way she was fucking her fingers.
She came with a soft cry but it wasn't satisfying. It only added to the ache.
She stayed in the house the rest of the day. She did housework. She tried to watch television. But each time her mind went back to John Turner and the way he told her to take her bra off. How dare he even presume she would do something like that? And yet she wondered what would happen if she did? Would things escalate? How far would she allow things to go? Sitting on the couch in front of her television, she felt the ache again. Lord, she was going crazy.
She called in sick the next day and her editor was very concerned. She said she was going to the doctor but she didn't. She stayed locked up in her house for most of the morning, moving listlessly from room to room, unable to understand what was happening to her.
At lunchtime she went upstairs and changed into a pair of shorts and a thin top. She didn't put on her bra. She sat looking at it for along time before she simply buttoned up her thin top and went outside. Her legs felt rubbery and her mouth felt dry as she walked out into the yard. She picked up a pair of hedge clippers but she knew she really didn't come outside to do yard work. She was moving just as listlessly as she had been moving inside her house.
Her heart nearly stopped when she heard his back door slam. In a moment she felt his eyes on her although she didn't look up. She only looked up when he called her name. A feverish shiver went through her as she straightened up and found herself looking into his eyes. Her nipples were swollen and achy against the thin fabric of her blouse. She still could not understand how this man could have this effect on her.
"Come here, Carol," he said.
With every ounce of her willpower, Carol fought against his summons and yet she found herself walking toward him. She stopped at the fence. Once again his eyes crawled over her like fingers, and she felt as if she might as well not be wearing a top.
"Make them bounce," he said. "Like a dancer. Jump up and down and make them bounce."
His voice was so matter of fact, as if he didn't care one way or another. But she did care. Inside her there were churning fires. She somehow knew that she was about to take a step beyond where she had ever gone before. She was discovering a part of her personality she didn't know existed.
She closed her eyes. She wanted to run away. Instead she moved up on her tiptoes and dropped back down again. She knew what it was doing to her breasts. He told her to do it faster in that matter of fact voice and she called him a name but she did it. In a moment she was bouncing like a cheerleader until he told her to stop. She was out breath. Her face was flushed. She did not open her eyes as she waited for what she was sure would happen next.
When she felt his hand on a breast, she was not surprised.
"You've got some nice tits, Carol," he said.
"I don't like that word," she said.
"It doesn't really matter what you don't like," he said. "You should have figured that out by now. You're a natural submissive. I saw that in your face the first time I met you. You just haven't met the man who brings it out in you. Until now."
His hand caressed her breast, flicked her nipple and then moved up to undo the top button on her thin shirt.
"Not outside," she said, realizing that she was practically giving him permission to do it somewhere else. "Not where the neighbours can see.'
"Fuck the neighbours," he said.
She didn't like his language. She didn't like the way he was treating her, as if she was his property. But she couldn't seem to move. And she didn't stop him as he undid her shirt and reached his hand inside to caress her naked breast.
"You're mine now," he said, and with his words something happened to her that had never happened before. She could not have described it but it was something all mixed up with love and heat and hunger and it made her wet. Later, she would realize it was the exact moment she gave herself to him and after that nothing else mattered except what he wanted.
He stopped fondling her and she sighed. He buttoned her shirt back up and she opened her eyes. She had tears in her eyes but she wasn't sure why she was crying. He reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek.
"Stand right there," he said.
She remained motionless as she crossed the yard and opened the fence and then came into her back yard. He walked up to her and took her hand. He pressed it against the front of his trousers and she felt his rigid cock.
"Do you want to celebrate our new relationship by sucking it here or do you want to go into the house?" he asked.
She had never really sucked one. Oh, sure, she had kissed one two or three times on dates and she had even taken Morris's into her mouth one time but the occasions had been brief. She really didn't like the taste or the position it put her in. She didn't like the feeling of subservience when she had her head in a man's lap. But down deep she knew she would never be able to say no again.
"Whatever you want," she said.
"Good answer," he said.
She knew she would have done it on her knees in the back yard if he'd wanted but she was thankful when he took her arm and guided her up the steps and into her house. He sat down on the couch in her living room and told her to take off the rest of her clothes. She stripped off the thin top and skimmed the shorts and panties off. He put his hand between her legs and she stepped into him and spread apart so he could reach her better. One of his fingers rubbed her clit and she felt the feverish shivers again.
She groaned as he took his hand away and leaned back on the couch.
"You know where it's at," he said. "Show me some service."
She dropped down on her knees between his legs. She kissed his bulge through his jeans and then she unbuckled him. She had to lift up to get him unzipped and to pull the jeans down. He was wearing boxers and his already stiff prick jumped out and struck her in the cheek. The head of his cock was already wet. She didn't mind.
She didn't waste a lot of time. She opened her lips and took him into her mouth and she held him there gently, feeling him leaking and throbbing, enjoying the meaty part of his cockhead. He put his hand in her hair but he didn't force her. He let her find her own rhythm and she started slowly, at first, feeling his meat slip over her tongue and into the back of throat and then slowly lifting her head and letting it come back out of her mouth with a plop. Then back in again. Her breasts were hard as rock, her nipples jutting out as excitedly as they had ever been. She licked the side of his sweaty cock down to his balls and then she licked his balls. She pulled back and then took him into her mouth again. He was leaking more. His cock felt larger. His fingers tightened on her head and she knew what he wanted and she began to bob her head. This was as far as she'd ever gone with any man. She had never allowed a man to come in her mouth. She knew she was going to get a mouthful this time.
Her lips sucked harder and her head moved faster and she heard him groan and then he was shooting into her mouth. She gagged and swallowed and then gagged again. Some of it was dripping down her chin but it was as if she was suddenly desperate to swallow as much as she could. He had another spurt and this time she got it all, sucking and swallowing until it was gone and not spilling another drop.
He gently, lovingly stroked her hair and the side of her face and then dipped his finger in the cum that had dripped down her chin and pushed it into her mouth. She sucked his finger dry.
"You are a good girl, Carol, "he said. "Now go get cleaned up and put on something nice. I'm taking you out to dinner this evening."
Saying no to him was out of the question. He told her he'd be back at seven and she spent the rest of the day soaking in a hot tub and then putting on her favourite red dress. The red dress was stunning on her and it showed plenty of cleavage. It came down below her knees but it gave her an excuse to wear stockings and a garter belt, which she somehow sensed he would be the kind of man who liked such things. She completed the outfit with her red stilettos.
It showed how dizzy she was because it was only when Morris parked out front and was walking up the sidewalk that she remembered she had also agreed to go out with him. Both Morris and John Turner arrived at her door at the same time. Morris looked mad as hell to see John there but John only smiled pleasantly.
"It seems we have a dilemma," John said.
"What is this, Carol?" Morris asked in a surly tone.
"I think our lovely Carol mixed up her dates tonight," John said. "She actually had a date with me. She made a mistake. Anybody could do that."
"She's going out with me tonight," Morris said.
John shook his head sadly. "Not tonight, Morris. Not ever again."
"Who the hell are you to tell me that," Morris said.
Morris had balled up his fists as he was ready to fight. John had taken a casual seat on the couch and crossed his legs. He still had the same slight smile. Carol felt sorry for Morris. He had always been the type who could bluff other men because he had size and height, but he had no idea who he was dealing with. Morris was a rat in the cage with a python.
"Calm down, Morris," John said. "Carol will tell you."
"Carol is my girlfriend," Morris said. "And she's going to stay my girlfriend and you just get the hell out of here."
"It's Carol's decision to make, I think," John said.
"It's my decision," Morris said. "I'm making it."
"No, you're not, Morris," Carol said.
Facing John, Morris could act all blustery and threatening but looking at Carol, it was as if he deflated. He pleaded with Carol with his eyes and Carol felt terrible for him but deep down she knew it was over between them. She knew the slightest command could have her on her knees sucking John's cock again and it wouldn't matter if Morris was there or not.