Neighborly Relations

This is the second part of a story that began with "NEIGHBORLY RELATIONS 01: The Porter" in the Erotic Couplings section. There will be more to follow.

PART TWO: THE SEX PARTY

CHAPTER ONE, Kindred Spirits

Jennifer was a robust woman of 52 years with pendulous breasts, an ample but not unbecoming backside. Her stomach was flat, though, the one visible sign that she did actually watch her calories and exercise regularly. She didn't suppose she could do anything about her thighs at this stage of the game, besides, her husband, Daryl, liked them. And he liked her ass, too-liked burying his dick in it.

All in all, Jennifer felt that her life was pretty darn good. The house was paid for and her two children, Brenda and Bill, were both married and finding their own way to fulfillment. Jennifer and Daryl still had sex at least twice a week, and the sex was always good. Very good, in fact, since she and Daryl finally faced reality about aging and he started taking his "boner pills." It had seemed for a time that erectile dysfunction was going to end their fun, but Viagra got them back in the game.

Still, she could remember a time when they had more. She remembered times when they had more than they could handle, for that matter, and that was bothering her now. She wondered if she was getting too old to ever have that much again.

The Petersons lived on a cul-de-sac that had been developed in the Eighties. They had been one of the first to move onto the street, along with their best friends, the Taylors. The Peterson and Taylor families fit together like hand and glove. They shared common interests in movies, food, books-you name it-and their children were the same ages. In fact, Jennifer's son, Bill had married Gina, the Taylor daughter. Life was perfect for them then.

One reason it was perfect was the sex. It was a rather complicated thing at first. Daryl had dated Carla Taylor in high school, before she went to college and married Bob Taylor. Later, after Daryl had already started work at the car dealership, Bob Taylor and his new bride moved to town and he applied for a job as a salesman. Daryl didn't know who his wife was when they started working together, but the two men hit it off right away. When the couples got together for a baseball game one evening, Daryl was shocked to see his old flame. Carla had known, of course, since Daryl's name hadn't changed in marriage, and she'd told her husband, who thought it was a pretty good joke of fate.

The two couples got along fine and spent most weekends together, and when it came time to start families, they moved onto nearly identical Colonial houses next door to each other. Then, one night, something happened that might have ruined everything. Carla Taylor drank to excess at the Peterson's home one night. They were playing pinochle late into the night and drinking wine, but apparently she'd had a bit of something before coming over and so was ahead of the pack.

"We should play strip pinochle," Carla said, after they (she was teamed up with Daryl) won another hand. "We'd beat the pants off of you guys."

"Probably would," Jennifer said, laughing. "That would be one heck of a game."

"Yeah, so let's do it."

Carla was smiling, so it might have been a joke, but he tone was serious and her husband's face bore a look of embarrassment that was unmistakable.

"What?" Jennifer said, looking at her husband, who stared blankly back at her.

"Strip pinochle," Carla said. "When a team loses a hand they take off an article of clothing. Then, when one team is completely naked, they play for dares."

"Carla, come on, quit teasing," Bob said, urgently.

"What do you mean? You thought it was a cool idea last night." Carla's eyes bore a malicious glint as she looked at her husband.

"But that was when we, when, oh come here," Bob said, standing and walking toward the kitchen. "Give us a minute, okay guys?"

"Sure," Daryl said, watching the couple hurry into the kitchen to confer.

"What's with her?" Jennifer asked her husband quietly. "Is she serious?"

"I bet she is." He looked a bit glum then, as though he expected to be in some kind of trouble soon and didn't know how to avoid it. "She was, well, she always liked to fuck," he said then. "And show herself off. You know, work ways to accidentally expose herself."

"So she means it about strip pinochle."

"Yes, knowing her, I think she is. We didn't break up because we went to different colleges. We broke up because I wanted to spend my life raising a family and she wanted to spend hers fucking. Her words, not mine. I don't know how Bob is going to keep her on the reservation."

Jennifer looked toward the kitchen door, thinking. Strip pinochle? She felt a twinge in her crotch at the thought of such a thing. Stripping naked would be all right, but what did she mean about the dares?

"What do you think, dear?" Jennifer said. Her heart had begun beating so loudly that she was afraid it was drowning out her words.

"About what?"

"Do you want to play?"

Daryl looked at her in total shock. "You want to play? I mean, stripping naked an all?"

"I'm game if you are," Jennifer said. "Though I don't know what she means about dares."

"They're bound to be sexual," he said. And then he actually blushed slightly. "The dares would most likely lead to the losing team screwing while the other one watches."

Jennifer's pussy was suddenly very moist. That was what she'd thought (hoped) the dare would be. Suddenly, she wanted very much to win the pinochle game so she could watch her husband fuck another woman. She wanted that more than anything else in the world just then.

"So, do you want to play?"

Daryl paused, measuring possibilities, and then he smiled. "We are all friends, I guess. What's a little sex among friends?"

Jennifer leaned closer to Daryl then, saying, "God, I'm so horny right now. I want to beat the pants off you guys."

"Hey, I was hoping to see you and Bob," he complained, playfully.

"No, I think Bob's been playing sloppy on purpose," she said. "I have a feeling we'll beat you."

Just then, Carla and Bob returned to the room. "I guess we'd better go," Bob said, blankly. "I mean, the evening kind of hit a bump there, didn't it?"

"I'm sorry," Carla said, though she looked more eager than sorry.

"Sit down," Jennifer said then. "Let's play cards."

"What?" Bob asked.

"Well, Carla thinks it's a good idea, and apparently you told her it would be cool when you were in bed together last night."

"But I didn't . . ."

"Come on, it'll be fun. But you're going to have to explain to me about the dares."

The dares ended up being exactly what Daryl had foreseen, and the result of the game was just as Jennifer expected. Carla suddenly started playing like shit and Bob became a master. Eventually, Carla and Daryl were sitting opposite each other without a stitch of clothing on, and the team of Bob and Jennifer was in underpants and stockings.

"Alright, let's play another hand," Bob said. "But, of course, we lose a sock but what are you guys betting?"

"That's up to you," Carla said. "I'd suggest that you take turns thinking up a dare for us on each hand. Of course, if we win, we start putting clothing back on."

"Right. Jennifer, what would you have them bet?" Bob asked.

"I don't know," she shrugged, though she did know quite well what she wanted. "I think they should both masturbate for us. One minute."

"Oh, easy bet," Carla scoffed, and Daryl looked at his wife with horny admiration. "You're on."

It ended with Daryl and Carla screwing in the center of the living room rug while Bob and Jennifer sat on the couch in their underwear watching. "Do you want to . . . you know?" Bob asked her, only briefly taking his eyes off of the action.

"Oh, yes, very much so, but we won, didn't we? We don't do any dares." she said. "And, to tell the truth, I'm really enjoying the show."

"Okay, well, me too." Bob placed his hand on his cock, which was trying to rip through the fabric of his briefs. "Would you mind if I, uh, helped myself out?"

"Go right ahead," Jennifer said. "I was about to ask the same thing. Oh, nice cock," she said when he'd pulled his briefs down to release it. "Next time we play, you should try to lose. I mean, if you dare."

Bob laughed, stroking himself, and they settled down to watch the show.

That had been 1983. Over the years they played pinochle, poker, naked twister, strip darts, and Trivial Pursuit and blowjob roulette. They exchanged mates for entire nights and soon were joined by another couple that moved onto the street. Their little suburban loop was a very sexy place.

All good things end, however. Bob Taylor died in a car accident in 1997 and Carla moved away. The other couple took early retirement and moved south. New people moved in and life moved on.

Only Jennifer and Daryl Peterson and Ralph and Betty Burton remained of the original owners. Ralph and Betty were very nice people, but had never seemed like anyone who'd want to join in on the fun.

No, Bob and Carla had been their kindred spirits, and it wasn't likely they'd find someone new at this stage of the game.

CHAPTER TWO: Know Your Neighbors

Robert and Emily Porter lived in the Taylor's old house now. They were a very nice family, and good looking all around, but they seemed pretty straight laced. Next to them were the Trents, who were definitely not straight laced. Patty Trent liked to do her housework bare-naked with her drapes open and sometimes hurried outside without a stitch to sit in her car in the garage-masturbating, Jennifer supposed. She and Daryl liked to watch Patty and then go fuck like crazy. They wondered if the Trents might want to come over and play, but saw no indication that Charles Trent was in any way as kinky as his wife. No, they wouldn't risk the embarrassment since Daryl's dealership did too much business with the construction firm where Charles Trent worked.

Next to the Trents lived the Mosswells. The family had only been in the house about three years now, with one son, Tillman, still living at home. The Mosswells were only the second African American family to live on the street, but whatever color, all the new people seemed pretty much the same to Jennifer.

Next to the Mosswells lived a young couple who probably couldn't afford a house as large as that. John and Terry Carter, about thirty each, were very much in love and very much pregnant at the moment with two toddlers already in residence. The Carters were probably the family Jennifer knew best since she had taken up baby sitting their little ones, Kyle and Kristy on occasion. Terry was a very friendly lady, but prone to divulging too much information. "I'm still lactating from Kyle," she confided once, and now that I'm knocked up again the milk just flows like crazy." And, when Jennifer asked why she hadn't dried up since breastfeeding the four year-old, she confided, "Well, John won't leave my tits alone long enough to stop running. I swear to god it's the only milk he likes nowadays."

Jennifer was often tempted to ask if she could have a taste of Terry's miracle milk, but she'd wisely held her tongue. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The Burtons lived on the other side of Jennifer's home, and they were never very friendly. Fine to say hi to, and never any trouble, but they kept to themselves. Beyond them lived Andy and Claudia Adams, a couple in their twenties with a two year old and another one on the way.

Two lactating women, Jennifer thought to herself. Boy, we could open up a dairy.

She knew she should stop thinking like that because it made her too horny. Those couples were about thirty years younger that she and Daryl. They wouldn't want to fool around with a couple old folks, would they?

Stop that! Jennifer may have put a few pounds on her thighs, and her tits were giving in to gravity, but her face was nearly unlined and her belly was firm and she could out fuck the best of them if given a chance. She just had to figure out a way to get that chance.

CHAPTER THREE, The Good Deed

Terry Carter was worried. No, she was more than worried, but she wasn't sure what her feelings might be called. Her husband, John, had just called to tell her that their car was, in the words of the mechanic, "Not worth fixing any more." John told her that they sure would fix it and charge him over eight hundred dollars, if that's what he wanted, but that he'd be back spending the same amount soon.

"I guess I'll be using the bus for awhile," John said, always trying to put a positive spin on things.

"Oh, John, we can't . . ." But she cut herself off. Why be negative right now? Take a shot at seeing the bright side. "Yes, well, at least there is a bus. We'll start scouring the web for used cars."

"Yeah, we'll be just fine," he told her before hanging up.

Fine. Well, sure, sometime, but not right now. With the economy running so slow, and John only working a three-quarter schedule, about all they could was make their house payments. And, the truth be told, they could probably only keep that up for another month or two. Now she wished they hadn't moved here before they both had jobs. She'd had no luck in finding one, and John's job at the factory was well beneath his abilities. Still, at least he had a job.

What about now? They had one hundred and five dollars in the bank until payday a week from then and two young children to feed. And, of course, her prenatal care wasn't cheap either. What on earth were they going to do?

"Knock, knock!" Jenny Peterson called out as she pushed open the back screen door. "You decent?"

Terry smiled and pushed her sandy, shoulder length hair back from her face as she fought a bright expression onto it. "You bet," she said, shifting around on her chair to stand and greet her neighbor. She genuinely liked Jenny Peterson, and she hoped she'd be in as good shape as her in twenty years. The woman had the most amazing breasts, Terry thought, though she'd prefer a little less on the backside.

"You look worried," Jenny said. "Sit down, sit down. You shouldn't be standing all the time."

"I'm only in my sixth month," Terry said, laughing. "And I need my exercise, too, you know."

"Okay, sit or stand, whatever. Where are the kids?" Jenny asked.

"Napping."

"Must be feeding time somewhere," the older woman pointed out. "You're leaking."

"Oh, damn," Terry exclaimed, standing again. "I've gotten so I barely notice any more, and I really can't afford to stain all of my clothing." She walked to the sink and quickly unbuttoned her blouse. Running cold water, she closed the drain and dropped the blouse inside to soak. "Okay, one problem solved," she said, turning back toward Jenny.

Jennifer was transfixed by her heavy breasts in the maternity bra Terry was wearing. They were pendulous, full of milk, and they looked so soft and warm suspended over the swelling of Terry's pregnant belly. Jenny couldn't help but lick her lips as she looked at the wet stains on the cups of the bra.

And Terry couldn't help but notice the look in her eyes, either. "So, what were you saying?" she said.

"Oh, yes, I was wondering what was wrong," Jenny said, breaking her gaze away.

"Our car," Terry admitted. "It's shot. Of course, we'll have to fix it I suppose, no matter what. We can't . . ."

"Your car? Oh, goodness, that's nothing to be so worried about." Jenny was all smiles then. "It's down at our shop, you know. I spoke to Daryl on the phone a bit a go and he mentioned how the car isn't safe at all, and he hopes you don't fix it. That's what I came over to tell you."

"Well, we sure can't afford a new one," Terry said. "Or even a good used one."

"Well, Daryl and I were thinking that you could use a loaner from the dealership in the interim," Jenny said. "If you don't mind driving around advertising Westside Motors, that is."

"No, we couldn't." Terry shifted the straps of her bra a bit, trying to find a comfortable way to keep it supporting her breasts. No, they were too full of milk to be comfortable. "I mean, the interim could be a year. More, even."

"So you drive it for a year. Big deal. We can't have you taking the little ones around in a dangerous car, can we?"

"No, but . . ."

"Okay, then, we'll be by this evening with the car." Jenny stood then, beaming. "If you don't mind my saying, dear, you'd better milk those things. It's gotta hurt."

"Yes." Terry lifted both breasts slightly, which reduced a bit of the pain. "But my breast pump is broken. Hell, everything we have is broken, I think."

"Well, since you don't want to start the four year old breast feeding again, and your husband isn't here to suckle, you're just going to have to milk them yourself. Even a little bit would help," Jenny said, her eyes fixed on Terry's chest.

"Oh, my goodness, did I really tell you about John?"

"Oh, yes, don't you remember?" Jenny tried to keep her eyes on Terry's eyes but did a poor job of it. "Just off hand when we were talking."

"Sometimes I chatter a bit more than I should."

"No worry. I don't think there's a man alive who would turn down a taste of mother's milk. At least one suck or two, anyway. I know Daryl wouldn't, that's for sure." Jenny opened the back door again. "I'd suggest sitting in a nice hot bath and having a little rub while milking. That always got me off like a bang. Bye now. Be back later with the keys."

"Bye, bye." Terry watched the door close thinking that if she had invited Jenny to suck at her breasts, the older woman would have taken her up on it in a heartbeat. It was weird, too, that she didn't feel the least bit repulsed by that notion.

#

"I think they liked the car," Jenny told her husband later. She was just beginning to suck his cock back to life after he'd emptied himself into her pussy. They'd taken Jenny's car over instead of a loaner. And it was nearly midnight now, playtime for the Petersons. "Shocked the hell out of them that it wasn't the loaner car."

"Well, I hadn't thought of the insurance costs when I suggested a loaner," her husband said.

Daryl was still an imposing man at 54 years, with a broad shouldered physique and not too much pot belly, it was his full hair of silver hair that made him stand out in a crowd. Of course, Jenny thought his eight inch cock was his best attribute and felt that it was too bad that more women out there weren't acquainted with it.

"You're right, though, dear," she said, looking up into his eyes and stroking his hard cock slowly. "I can drive any car on the lot if I need to. Selling them my car for a dollar a month was a great idea."

"I'm glad they didn't argue too much about it," Daryl said. "It's so embarrassing."

"No parent is going to endanger their children, even if it means swallowing some of their pride," Jenny said, pushing his legs apart to lift his scrotum to her mouth.

"You're going to be swallowing my pride in a moment," he laughed. "You're right about Terry. God, I'd love a taste of her milk. Do you think they noticed my interest?"

"Oh, gee, not at all, dear." Jenny trailed her tongue up his shaft to the head of his cock and licked it like a lollypop. "Your hard-on only just stayed in your pants and I think you actually made eye contact a couple times." She laughed, teasing him. "Very discreet."

"Good," he laughed. "Now climb on board for awhile and give yourself a thrill before I paint your tonsils with my love juice."

"Oh, you silver tongued devil, you."

#

"That's an awfully nice car, you know." John Carter sat on the edge of the bed in his shorts looking at his wife as she lay naked on the rumpled bed. He was still worried, but now it was about having a car rather than not having one. "Those guys are very sweet, but I sure hate to accept charity."