Meeting the New Neighbors

Editor's note: this fictional work contains scenes of completely fictional incest or fictional incest content.

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We live in a semi-detached house in a nice part of Germany, in the Cologne area. We bought our half of the house twenty years ago. In the other half lived a couple who were in their fifties then. We had excellent relations with them and hoped that they would never move out, because you never know what kind of new neighbors you might get instead. But about five years ago the husband died, and his wife started talking about selling the house. She hesitated for many years, but recently she did indeed sell it, leaving us with a mixture of hopes and fears about our new neighbors.

The new owners turned out to be a middle-aged couple. They are roughly our age, early forties. For about a month they had been moving in, hanging lamps and paintings and such things. They had introduced themselves briefly, just after moving in. They had very traditional German names, Gerhard and Hannelore. They invited us to visit them on a Saturday afternoon in early June to get to know each other better.

We are Charlotte and Felix. I think we look a bit younger than the average couple of our age, because we work out regularly, and take care of our physical shape. We see ourselves as liberals, both politically and sexually, and are rather proud of that.

We are originally from New York, where we got married. We settled in the Cologne area about twenty years ago, because of my work. Within a few months, Charlotte also got an excellent job here, and we decided to exchange the skyscrapers of New York for the rolling hills of Germany.

By now, we speak German fluently, but Germans recognize our American accent from a mile away. During our first brief meeting with Gerhard and Hannelore, we had already established that German was to be our common language. They both spoke English, but not very fluidly.

As I have said, we are sexually quite liberal. We have had pretty wild sex with many partners before getting married. After getting married we continued living in New York for a few years, and we enthusiastically explored the local sex scene for couples. We have participated in group sex and gone to swingers clubs. We loved it!

For us, the function of our sexual organs is to provide pleasure. Indeed, we have no children, so pleasure has been their only function. We are loyal to each other in the sense that we want our partner to be happy. If that involves a sexual adventure with someone else, so be it. As long as the other partner does not suffer from it.

In the sex clubs, we discovered that we actually enjoy seeing our partner have sex with someone else. I feel my love for Charlotte growing every time I see someone else's penis entering her vagina. I love hearing her moan with delight, and talk dirty to the other guy. I always insist on being present and watching the show. It makes me realize what a great wife I have.

Admittedly, it took some time to get used to that, but we were determined to break the conventions of traditional marriage, and we succeeded in replacing envy with love. This will not work for everyone, of course.

Charlotte's reaction is even stronger. When we come home from a sex club after she has been thoroughly fucked by one or more guys, she is incredibly horny. Horny for me! She urgently wants sex with me. That is not always easy for me, because like most men I reach my limit after fucking a couple of times.

As part of our liberal attitude, we completely accept same-sex relations. Indeed, my wife had several lesbian experiences. Seeing her passionately make love with another woman, both with their heads between each other's legs and screaming with delight, is a spectacle I do not want to miss. Not to mention the four happily wobbling tits! Sometimes I join them of course, but the other woman does not always appreciate a cock.

My own steps in the direction of gay sex have been few and far between. I merely sucked a cock twice, without enjoying it much. Neither did the owner of that cock, as far as I could tell.

My lack of homo-erotic experiences became almost an embarrassment in the liberal circles we moved in while living in New York. Everyone pretended to be bi-sexual. Straight was so last century! Someone even asked me, "What is the last time you fucked a guy in the ass?"

If you said, "I have never done that," you were considered a loser.

"I have nothing against gay sex, it is just not my thing," I usually answered.

"Come on, you have to try that at least once in your life, Felix," they said. Even Charlotte told me that once. It became an item on my bucket list, but it is near the bottom of that list.

In fact, I have never even fucked Charlotte in her ass. She has a much nicer hole on the other side, and even her ass is much more attractive than a guy's ass.

We suffered quite a big culture shock after moving to Germany, but now we love living here. It is an area with beautiful sensually curved hills, covered by forests and meadows. The contrast with New York City could hardly be larger, but we rarely miss living in a big city.

We thought our liberal lifestyle was over when we moved here. To us, Germany looked at first sight like a rather traditional, conservative country, with its old-fashioned restaurants decorated with antlers, wrought iron fixtures, and paintings of hunting scenes.

Waitresses sometimes wear traditional "dirndl" dresses, known for their impressive cleavages. Unfortunately, this is seen less often in the Cologne area. These dresses give the impression that German breasts are much larger than American ones, but I think that is not really true. Indeed, I did do some research on this subject!

Germans tend to see Americans, and Anglo-Saxons in general, as rather prudish people, because we bleep four-letter words in TV broadcasts, and seem to despise nudity.

But first impressions are often wrong. We quickly discovered that Germany had another side. There was a flourishing swingers scene and Germans love nudity, even in public in certain areas. So we could continue our wild New York habits for a few years.

I am almost certain that my wife had lovers outside our marriage. I hope she did, because certainly I have not been loyal in the traditional sense. We have a kind of unspoken agreement that we can have such adventures. We can tell each other, or keep it secret.

We try to avoid being caught in bed with someone else, but if it were to happen the idea is that our partner would join in for a threesome. But this is just in theory. It has not happened yet. One of my fantasies is catching my wife in bed with a beautiful girl.

The reason I think my wife had lovers is the fact that I know she gets horny for me after such an affair. Sometimes I arrive home from work and find her home already. She has taken a shower and put on a certain perfume. She looks at me with a satisfied expression on her face that I can only describe as a 'just-fucked look'.

On such occasions, she is incredibly horny. She hugs me and kisses me, unzips my pants, and takes my cock out. Her horniness causes an almost instant erection. She undresses and tells me to shove it in. No foreplay required. Her pussy is as slippery as butter already. We have great sex, and often I fuck her more than once.

I could simply ask her: "Have you been with another guy, honey?", and she would undoubtedly tell me the truth. But both of us instinctively feel that the secret is part of the excitement. She knows that I know and that I am OK with it. In fact, I think she is using that special perfume as a little hint for me. In my mind, I am calling it the 'just-fucked perfume'.

These 'just-fucked' sex sessions were always great. I almost wished she had affairs with other guys more often. It was almost as if her entire body wanted to thank me for giving her this freedom, or as if she wanted to rebuild our bond again after the affair.

In a way, it is a bit like 'makeup sex', the intense sex that some couples have after a fight. But I am sure she did not do it consciously. It came from deep inside her, and there was no acting involved.

I am not sure what she knows about my adventures. With her female intuition, she may well be able to spot a just-fucked expression on my face. But unlike her, I am not horny after sex. Like with most men, my libido goes down, and I do not have much interest in sex that evening.

But I certainly had my own adventures. Indeed, I have examined quite a few of those big German breasts. Not surprisingly perhaps, They are not essentially different from American ones. Of course, all boobies are different, and it is always fabulous if a woman exposes them to you for the first time. I will never get tired of caressing a new pair of tits.

The only way German-American differences play a role in sex is through language. I have noticed that German girls find my American accent sexy, and some insist that I speak English during sex. Dirty English, of course. With some embarrassment, I started saying things like "I am going to fuck your wet cunt with my hard cock, you bitch." They always love it, although it makes me feel uneasy.

The women either talked English with a German accent, which is strangely erotic, or they spoke German and taught me some useful vocabulary. I started loving German dirty talk. Phrases like "Ich will dich noch tiefer in mir!" or "Gib´s mir du geiler Hengst!" can drive me wild. And it was not just the talk. German girls moan in a different way too, which I find very cute.

My last adventure was about a year ago. It was with an Indian girl named Alisha. She worked in my office and told me that I should practice meditation to enhance my spiritual health. She took me to her apartment to teach me some oriental techniques.

She localized my main chakra, and got my juices flowing, if that is the correct jargon. I joined my lingham with her yoni, and we reached higher planes of cosmic awareness. She taught me to add a little bit of 'zen' to my sex life. It involved slow, long-lasting sex, which ended with a spectacular orgasm. If this was meditation, it was surely something I should practice more often. I promised Alisha that I would take her lessons to heart.

To be honest, my wild sex life exists mainly in my fantasies by now. In the last ten years, my wife and I have become a lot less adventurous. The last time I smelled the 'just-fucked' perfume was three years ago. We have become loyal, twice-a-week straight pussy fuckers. And even twice a week is becoming a struggle.

This is the strange thing about married life. In the first weeks, you are permanently touching each other. She pulls down your pants and starts sucking your cock. You pull down her panties and start eating her pussy. You fuck three, four times a day. You spend five hours in bed, and stroke, lick, and suck every part of each other's body. You go for lunch, and fuck her on the kitchen table.

Then the intensity goes down. She remains equally attractive, but sometimes she walks passed you completely naked, and you do not even grab her pussy. You know you could just caress her tits, warm her up, and fuck her. We have never refused sex to each other. Then how is it possible that this hot woman can walk naked through the house without being fucked? How can I get out of the shower naked without having my cock sucked?

We still enjoy sex, but the loud orgasms and other sex noises are a thing of the past. Admittedly our new neighbors are ahead of us in that respect. Our houses have pretty good sound insulation, but one day they had a window open, and I could clearly hear the sounds of a pretty serious fucking session.

I had warned my wife about our visit to the neighbors, "They look like rather conservative people. Look at the way they dress. And they drive a Mercedes. Be careful with what you are saying, or they might get upset. They may not share our liberal values. They may well reject any suggestion of sex outside marriage. So don't even hint at that! No risky jokes until we know they are open to that."

That Saturday afternoon it was going to be nice weather. Charlotte and I had discussed what to wear. As usual for me it was easy. I just chose a pair of shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. Charlotte selected from about five options, which she showed to me for approval. I knew the rules of that game. No matter what I said, she had already made up her mind anyway.

She selected a dress that she last wore when she was about 32. It was very sexy, and I loved it. Her breasts really stood out, and the skirt was very short and showed a lot of her legs. Her legs still look lovely, so she could wear that dress without making a fool of herself.

But I told her, "It is lovely, but isn't it a bit too sexy for meeting our German neighbors?"

"I want to look like a sexy woman from New York, not a boring German housewife," she replied. As usual, I surrendered.

We rang the bell, and Hannelore opened the door. She accompanied us to the terrace behind the house, overlooking the garden, which had a huge lawn surrounded by some trees and shrubs. There were two garden benches with gray cushions, placed at right angles, for two to three people each. There were also two chairs and a table.

Gerhard was sitting there on one of the benches. He was dressed in shorts, a 'la Coste' shirt, and was wearing boat shoes. Hannelore had a tasteful dress adorned with flowers. Her dress was not very revealing. It was elegant, but not especially sexy. Her skirt was much longer than Charlotte's and her dress showed no cleavage. She seemed to have a nice set of large breasts, as far as I could tell.

This seemed to confirm my prejudice about them. She was certainly not dressed in a traditional way, but also not especially sexy. Gerhard was dressed just the way a conservative guy would dress if he wanted to look modern, I thought.

Hannelore has a remarkably young face for her age. She is a natural beauty, the kind of woman who looks great even without makeup and would almost certainly still look great at 70. Both Gerhard and Hannelore were tanned, at least in their faces, arms, and legs.

We sat down next to each other on one of the sofas, and Hannelore sat down next to Gerhard on the other. Just in case they had forgotten our names I introduced myself. "Hi, my name is Felix, and this is my wife Charlotte." But, as I said, we were actually speaking German.

Gerhard turned out to be a loud and boisterous man, who never tried to hide his thoughts. "Wow, I love that American accent." He praised my wife's looks in a somewhat exaggerated way, "Now I know why your name is Felix. You are a lucky man to have such a stunning wife!"

Charlotte stammered, "Why, thank you Gerhard. You look pretty good yourself!"

I said that Hannelore looked great as well, but I understood that trying to compete with Gerhard would make me look like a fool. And he had not even finished yet.

"You have fantastic legs, Charlotte! Not to mention the rest of your body! I hope we will be neighbors for many years, and that you don't mind the occasional look in your direction!"

"Please stop it Gerhard," said Hannelore. "You make her feel uncomfortable." Then, looking at us, "Sorry, he talks like that. Don't pay too much attention to it."

She went inside the house and brought coffee and some pieces of Schwarzwälder kirschtorte, a famous German chocolate and cherry pie. Homemade, she said proudly. Germans are great at making pies!

They told us that they had a daughter of 21 years old, named Heidi. We learned that she was studying in Cologne, but was living with her parents. "You may have seen her already. Heidi is upstairs, sleeping late perhaps, or doing some homework."

They also had a son named Klaus. "Klaus studies in Oxford, but we expect him to return home this afternoon for the summer vacation."

We had a good view of that garden from our bedroom window. I had indeed seen their daughter, Heidi, walking on the lawn once. She looked very sexy, and my mind had already started fantasizing about her. Admittedly, it does not take much for my mind to start fantasizing about attractive women.

We talked a bit more about ourselves, our families, and our lives, carefully avoiding potentially sensitive issues like politics and liberal values. Of course we discussed some house-related topics, such as maintenance of the common roof, the fence, local sightseeing, and some legal issues. Inevitably, German and American cultural differences came up, and we made some silly jokes about some of the stereotypes.

After about an hour of rather uneventful talking, Hannelore brought some drinks and snacks. Then Gerhard cleared his throat, hesitated for a moment, and said, "There is another thing we have to discuss as neighbors. You see, Hannelore and I are naturists."

I said, "So you like walking around without clothes. I have no problem with that."

"Yes," Gerhard said, "We like walking around naked. Already for years, we go to naturist resorts on vacation. But we would also like to do that in our garden. And that window of yours has a view of our garden."

"That's our bedroom," I said. "If you are naked we will see you. If that bothers you, then you should keep your clothes on."

"It does not bother us to be seen," said Gerhard, "but we worried that it would bother YOU, and call the police on us."

"Don't worry," said Charlotte, "We are very liberal people."

"We are definitely not going to call the police," I said. "But maybe I will buy some binoculars."

"That's Felix," said Charlotte, "That's a typical thing for him to say."

"Well, if you want to see better, the easiest thing to do is visit us in our garden. If you see nudity, you are always welcome to have a closer look," said Gerhard. "I can guarantee you that it is well worth seeing!"

"So the naked people would be you, Hannelore, and perhaps your son and daughter?" I asked.

"Sometimes we may have guests," Gerhard said. "In our previous house, we sometimes organized naturist parties. But that was all inside the house. We had a small garden without any privacy."

They explained that they have a substantial number of friends that regularly attend naturist parties and that for each party they would invite five or six couples from that list. Sometimes there would be parties in other houses as well, but a few times a year it was their turn to organize one. To keep things interesting, they tried to vary the participants each time.

"When we bought the house we took privacy in the garden into consideration," Gerhard said. "Of course, there are villas with absolute privacy, but they were too expensive for us. In this house, there was only one neighbor that could see us. So we decided that if you objected to nudity, I could build a huge textile screen to block the view. But I think neither of us would be happy with that."

Charlotte said, "We have been to nude beaches before. I can assure you that Felix loves to watch naked people, so he will be happy. And I have no objections either."

Gerhard looked at me with a conspiratorial smile on his face, and said, "So if you see a cute naked woman in our garden, just come over and have a closer look.

"And by the way, you don't have to get naked yourself, if you don't want to. We will tell our guests that you are the neighbors, and they will understand that you just come for some drinks. They don't mind being looked at. In fact, they love it! And even more if the onlookers are dressed!"

We talked a bit more about naturism, and I said, "Doesn't it bother you that this is so often associated with sex? I am sure you'll agree that nudity and sex have nothing to do with each other."

Hannelore said, "Well, that is a myth spread by a few hard-core naturists. In reality, nudity has of course something to do with sex. They try to make an artificial distinction between nudism and naturalism, but that is nonsense, in my opinion."