For the next four or five days I managed to stay away from my sewing room anytime when Peter might be home. I was even recovering a little until one hot August afternoon my virile neighbor caught me working in the yard. All I had on was a T-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts, the gym class kind with the short loose legs and elastic at the waist. My only underwear was a pair of bikini panties barely big enough to keep my pussy decent under those skimpy shorts. I was dirty and wet with sweat.
I wasn't even aware that Peter was there until he spoke to me. "Hi, Melanie, isn't it time you took a break"
He was already standing over me when I looked up. I knew in an instant he was taking inventory of my bare legs, and of my braless nipples clearly outlined against my thin damp T-shirt. Peter didn't have much on in the way of clothes either, only a low cut spandex bathing suit that showcased an impressive bulge in front, and a pair of tight buns in the back. I panicked, my eyes frozen on that big bulge at his crotch, and at once fearfully conscious being on my knees before this scary male as if I was already his willing and obedient love slave.
My head began to swim, and I thought, "If I lean forward just a bit, I will be able to lick his crotch. I wonder if I can taste his cock through his swim suit?"
"Damn it Melanie," I told myself, "what are you doing? Don't think about things that. "
But I couldn't help myself. I knew how vulnerable I must look kneeling there in the dirt in my revealing gym shorts and T-shirt. Under the wet fabric that covered them, my braless breasts were clearly outlined. Worse, hanging free as they were, they swayed with my every move. In this sexy show I was putting on for Peter despite myself, I might as well have been topless. Too weak to rise, I stayed where I was, vigorously pulling weeds as if to prove it was not submission that kept me on my knees.
"Hello, Peter, how are you?" I had answered, too quickly, and I instantly regretted that I had not stood up.
Peter grinned at me, somewhat evilly I thought. "Lady, you're all hot and sweaty. Come on over to my pool. You need to take a swim and cool off, and maybe something tall and cold to drink." Masculine charm just oozed from his invitation.
"No, I don't think so," and I added my answer as quickly as my wits would allow, "These weeds are taking over..., I..., I've got finish this flower bed."
"Nonsense, I have a friend of yours at my house, and the daiquiris are already made. Come on and cool off in the pool. You can dive right in with what you have on."
Becky must be there I thought to myself. God, how can I face her after spying on her the way I have? Anyway, I must stay away from this man, or I'll be in the same fix she is.
"No, I just can't Peter. I'm not fit to be seen in public, and besides I smell"
"You always smell just like a woman should, Melanie. Sweet with perfume, but with a real female scent underneath."
His answer to my excuse confirmed my suspicions. "So he HAS smelled me going into heat," I thought.
I looked up longingly again at that lovely bulge. I needed to stand, but it was perhaps safer to stay on my knees. As ready as I was to submit to this man, it was certainly more appropriate. Peter decided the issue by lifting me by my arm pits. On my feet, but very close to him, at least I was no longer staring at his crotch Now I was looking directly into the hairy tan of his broad chest. My new view wasn't any easier on my raging libido and collapsing confidence. God how I wanted to bury my face in all that hair, breathe in his odor, and taste him with my tongue.
"Come on now!" He had his arm over my shoulder now, and was pulling me toward his driveway. "I'm not going to take no for an answer young lady. It is definitely time you had a swim and a cool drink."
"No, No, Peter, I mustn't..., I mean I can't..., Please, Peter...,"
I protested all the while he was walking me out of my yard into his. Maybe with Becky there, it will be all right I thought. Surely he wouldn't make a pass at me with her there. That, I knew, was pure bull shit. Eddie Farmer wouldn't have cared what Becky thought, and Peter won't either. He knows about me, the way I am, and he is taking me to his house to fuck me! God help me, why can't I stop him?
Peter continued to ignore my excuses why "I just couldn't" as he pulled me along. A dozen steps and were at the gate to his back yard. Surely I could at least try to pull away from him couldn't I? No, somehow I just didn't have the will! Did I even want to escape? Escape from what..., that thick ten inches of heaven sent male meat between Peters legs? Or was it ten inches of hell? What did I want? In my panic I wasn't at all certain. A dozen more steps and we were through the gate and onto the paved deck of my neighbor's pool.
"Melanie, I think you know Rebecca Angle..., the Reverend Angle's wife." That last, the part about being the preacher' wife, I knew he added to be snide and cruel to poor Becky who was already so flustered she could barely say hello.
"Certainly! How are you Becky," I replied trying to sound as natural as possible. Becky stammered something I couldn't quite catch in reply and pulled the terry cloth robe she was wearing tighter around her neck. Her bare legs, and the pile of her clothes on a chair, gave her away. I was sure that she was quite nude underneath, and had grabbed the robe in her panic when she realized her lover wasn't coming back alone.
"Where are our manners Becky," Peter asked facetiously. By all means bring Melanie a daiquiri."
Becky needed something to do, some way to escape her embarrassment, and she was quick to respond. The tall ice tea glass felt cold in my hand. I was hot and dry, and the icy rum and lemon tartness hit the spot, even easing my confusion a bit.
It did occur to me tho that an alcoholic buzz was not exactly what I needed in my situation. Anyway, I don't think daiquiris are usually served in tall ice tea glasses, but I was hot, thirsty and flustered..,, and ambivalent about what was almost certainly going to happen to me. I gulped the big glass of strong liquor for the want of any better solution to my dilemma. By the time I had downed the second glass full, my head began to swim. As I staggered, Peter caught me in his arms, hugging me for the second time to that masculine bare chest. With his chest hair in my nose, I could enjoy his smell again. That threatening bulge in the crotch of his bathing suit was rubbing up against my belly. God it all felt soooo good..., but a voice inside me kept saying "come on Melanie you've got to get a hold of yourself."
I wasn't listening. The voice inside me never the less continued to scream, "Run, Melanie, Run!"
"Thank you, Peter," I told him as I pulled away. "I'm all right now. I was just a little dizzy there for a minute. Let me take a swim. I'm sure I'll feel better when I cool off." With that I dived into the water before he could hug my body against his again.
The cool water of the pool was refreshing, and it cleared my head a bit. I was, however, still feeling the effect those two big rum drinks. I shouldn't have swallowed them so quickly. For the next few minutes I deliberately ignored Peter and Becky with a series of lazy backstroke laps back and forth across the pool. I had to get out and face them sometime tho, and finally I pulled myself up the pool ladder.
What I saw gave me a jolt.
Peter had stripped both Becky and himself to the skin. He was sitting on the lounge with his feet off the end holding the naked body of his fellow school teacher held firmly between his legs as she struggled mightily to free herself.
"Please don't do this to me, Peter," she pleaded with her lover. "I can't be here with you like this! Not with Melanie here.., Please Peter."
"Come here, Melanie," Peter called to me.
"Rebecca didn't believe me when I told her that we have nothing to hide from you. Tell her Melanie. Tell her how you have been watching me fuck her for weeks now. I can't always tell when you are up there, but I know that you have been looking and listening. How many times, Melanie? How many times have you heard the preacher's wife here beg to suck my cock..., Please, Please, Peter, God Yesss Pete, Please Fuck Me?'"
At the last, Peter's voice raised to a falsetto, mocking Becky's feminine pitch.
I couldn't think of what to say. Becky had stopped trying to escape from between her lover's legs, and was staring at me open mouthed shaking her head silently denying that anything of what Peter said could possibly be true. Finally I found my tongue. "Yes Rebecca its true. I have watched while you and Peter had sex together, and I am ashamed of that. But you Peter, you should be ashamed too. You trapped her into this, and now you're trying to do the same thing to me."
With that I started to step by them toward the gate. It was a good try, I didn't quite make it. Peter's hand snaked up and caught my wrist in a steel grip as I tried to go past him.
"No, No, you don't my horny little cunt," he said pulling me down to my knees on the pool deck beside him.
"I know when a housewife is aching for somebody to feed her wet pussy some real man meat, and you lady need to be fucked about as badly as any I've ever seen. What say you suck on it a little first to get us both hot and ready."
