Next Door Neighbors

"My God," she muttered completely at loss, "that was... amazing."

"Thanks," he replied with a half-smile. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"Now, I understand the screams at night..."

"Oh, that..." he frowned, cleared his throat. "Sorry for that, hope it doesn't keep you awake," he said, then was quick to continue, before she could interrupt him, "but, to be frank, it's not that that's causing the screams."

"What do you mean?" She raised her eyebrow, sitting straighter up on the chair.

"Well," he cleared his throat again, this time more dramatically, and got up to his feet, "it's this," he said and lowered his shorts.

Her jaw dropped; there were no words she could utter, only incomprehensible sounds that, under different circumstances, might have formed coherent sentences.

"Yeah," he said with a smirk, "that's the usual reaction." He picked his soft penis up, his hand barely engulfing half of it. "And, to be honest, I'm not just a shower, either," he winked at Lana, who was still, quite petrified, staring at the humongous member.

"You mean, it gets..." she swallowed down hard, her mouth remaining half-open, "larger?"

"Yup," Stan nodded, satisfaction evidently painted in his eyes. "Hence, the screams."

"I can imagine, I..." she blinked fast, somehow believing it all to be a vision caused by the intense orgasm (she had never heard of hallucinatory climaxes, but, at that very moment, she was absolutely certain she was experiencing one), but, the penis remained the same size; well, actually, it wasn't. It was growing.

"You know," he said, slowly stroking more blood into his cock, "it'd only be fair, if you repaid the favor; after all, I did make you cum, right?"

He took a step closer towards her, the tip of his penis now a mere inch away from her half-open mouth. She knew, inwardly, she shouldn't do it; it was more than enough she had let him go down on her. She couldn't repay the favor, so to speak, and then go back home knowing that... her tongue slipped out of her mouth, touched the thick head.

She tasted him; it was a salty, but, quite enjoyable, taste. She reached out and grabbed the still semi-erect member; her hand could not wrap itself around it, it was too thick, even in its current condition. She opened her mouth; the head barely fitted, she kissed and licked it hard, trying to compensate for her inability properly to suck him off.

Lana ran her lips along the hardening cock, which was longer, and thicker, than her forearm; all the while she stared at it in sheer amazement, still unwilling to believe it was real. She took his clean-shaven balls in her mouth, sucked them hard, and felt the weight of the cock as it rested upon her forehead.

She looked up, met Stan's eyes watching her with delight; "well," he said, half-mockingly, "you'll warm up to it. They all do, eventually."

Lana simply continued with the sucking and kissing of his balls, twirling them around in her mouth, while she ran her fingers along his penis, exploring its protruding veins.

"This isn't really working for me," he suddenly said, his voice abruptly turning stern and cold.

"What?" She asked, still on her knees.

"I think you heard me," he said. "Get up, and take off, finally, that ridiculous bathrobe and your tiny negligee."

"Listen, I don't..." she said, exasperated.

"Will you kindly shut the hell up?" He raised his voice; not to a yell, but, nevertheless enough to make Lana rigid. "Good," he barked, then pulled her up to her feet by the shoulders. "Look, it's very simple, actually... I know you live next-door; I know you're married.

"So..." he paused, sporting a wide, cynical smirk. "If you don't want to, you're free to go; I'm not going to pressure you into something you don't want to do."

"Good, because..." she took a step backwards, but, he grabbed her, firmly, by the arm.

"But," he continued harshly, "if you walk out of here now, before you return the favor, your husband will, somehow someway, find out about what happened here today," he shrugged his shoulders with the most innocent-looking smile he could muster.

"You're joking?" Her voice came out way too high-pitched.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"I can only take what you said as a bad joke," she continued in the same high-pitched tone.

"Lower your voice," he ordered her, grabbing his forehead. "And, sure, you can take your chances, think I'm joking, and go back home; I'm not going to stop you. Are you willing, though, to take your chances?"

"Yes, I..." she started, then suddenly stopped herself. Was he being serious? Was this a way of his to ensure... would he dare?

Lana was tormented by these horrendous thoughts; besides, her glance continuously fell upon his rock-hard member standing in attention, pointing at her invitingly and, as it seemed to her at that moment, judgmentally.

The conflicting emotions caused her to remain frozen, a couple of feet away from Stan, and his throbbing penis; Lana sighed and let the bathrobe slip down to the floor.

"That's a smart girl," Stan mocked her.

She did not respond; there was nothing to be said. It was her that had given him the first signs; he had initiated everything, but, she never really tried to stop it. He had fascinated her, with his youth, directness, as well as with how he seemed attracted to her.

Had it been a fling in a bar, somewhere far away, she would not have hesitated one bit; she would have walked out and returned home with her head held high and only few regrets to plague her during the nights. Now, however, when she was so close to home—and, at the same time, so far away—she could think of nothing else to do, but, to oblige.

Of course, thoughts of how to escape the issue did cross her racing mind: she could claim he had attacked her (an option she loathed herself for contemplating for longer than a second), or, she could claim they had fought over the noise he was making and that he got back to her by claiming falsities. Would Robert believe her?

Most probably, yes; for this she was nearly certain and did not know how to feel about it. Robert trusted her wholeheartedly and would have believed her regardless of the way she'd try to spin the whole thing around. And he'd have no doubt in his mind about her sincerity, either.

Would she, though, be able to live with herself, knowing she had lied to her husband, the man with whom she had spent the biggest part of her life? That was the main question plaguing her mind and the point upon which all considerations of how to escape the predicament failed.

Besides, and possibly the biggest driving force behind her decision to stay in spite of all the thoughts darkening her mind, she wanted to stay; Stan had something that compelled her to remain, to throw caution to the wind and cheat, for the first time after more than 20 years of marriage, on her husband.

It wasn't only his package, even though Lana was quick to admit to herself that that played a major part in her final decision; there was something in his whole demeanor, his confidence, how he carried himself, that had caused an attraction to be born inside of her, almost from the first instant she laid her eyes upon him.

And thus, with her heart beating fast inside her chest, she slipped off her negligee, standing thus naked in only her high-heel platforms.

"Wonderful," Stan exclaimed and Lana could not tell whether he referred to her nakedness, or her decision to stay.

His glare changed instantly and Lana's heartbeat increased exponentially; without any forewarning, he pulled her close to him by the hair and kissed her roughly. He bit her lips, sucked on her tongue, his tongue—still tasting of her—went down her throat.

Lana did not resist; she succumbed quick, his rough, strong hands squeezing her asscheeks hard. He slapped her once, Lana jumped up and let a short scream exit her mouth, but, she did not protest further; on the contrary, she suddenly felt more liberated, finding herself in a scenario she had fantasized about plenty a-times in the past, but, never had experienced.

Their kiss was short-lived; he turned her around and bent her over the kitchen counter. Her hands were firmly on the wooden surface, her legs spread wide open. He was down on her, licking her pussy furiously, but, completely unlike earlier. He spat on her cunt twice, then on his hand.

He stroked his cock, spat again; Lana's legs trembled violently, when she saw him, with the corner of her eye, coming near her. He rubbed his steel-hard penis against her wet pussy, he slapped it against her; then, the tip found its way inside of her.

The pain, at first, was tremendous; Lana withered and screamed in agony, as she was being stretched out far wider than ever before. Not even her very first time had hurt this bad—of course, Robert had been very cautious, making sure to use his finger to deflower her, before proceeding with the actual intercourse.

Stan, on the other hand, appeared to have no gentility whatsoever—at least, not any more. He pushed himself deeper into her hard, more and more of his cock being driven inside of her; Lana squirmed, bit her nether lip hard, drawing some blood.

However, the pain quickly subdued to more acceptable levels and it gradually gave way to immense pleasure; Stan was balls-deep in and began the pounding, using long, hard, deep thrusts.

Each thrust, that had his balls slapping noisily on her pussy, brought on another thunderous wave of joy in Lana's mind and body; he pulled her head backwards by the hair and kissed her on the lips.

Lana accepted his kiss hungrily, twisting her neck sideways better to kiss him; in the meanwhile, the fucking got faster, harder. Lana's legs quickly grew numb and weak, she held on to the counter, which shook under every thrust alongside her body.

"Now you see why they all scream," Stan said, then slapped her ass hard. "Come on, scream for me, too," he slapped her again; Lana screamed, louder than before, as his pounding turned brutal, he was pulling almost his entire cock out, leaving only the tip in to keep the pussy stretched, then in one swift move thrust it all the way in, up to her cervix.

The fucking continued for quite some time; Lana was impressed with his stamina. She had had two orgasms during the intense pounding and was therefore completely lightheaded and exhausted, when Stan pulled out and grabbed her by the hair.

"Down on your knees, now," he pushed her down and Lana simply obeyed, unable to think, let alone react differently than she was ordered.

Stan jerked off furiously, rubbing and slapping the head of his cock on Lana's face; she opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, patiently waiting.

"Like this, yes," Stan groaned heavily, his huge member pulsating and throbbing, "look me straight into the eyes, bitch, that's it..." he let go with a prolonged moan, as streams of hot semen exploded out of his cock and landed on Lana's face and tongue.

"Lick it clean," he ordered her, after he was done; she did so, sucked on his cock head and squeezed the last remaining drops out of it. "I'll give it to you, for a reluctant one, you're one fine fuck," Stan sat back on the chair, legs open and his softening cock dangling freely.

"God," Lana exclaimed, still on her knees, "you came a river!"

"Always do," Stan nodded. "You better remember that."

"Why?" She raised her eyebrows, suddenly overcome by a new fear.

"Oh, you'll find out pretty soon..." he shrugged his shoulders. "Anticipation is half the fun, isn't?"

"I don't know what you've got in mind, but," she got up on her feet, leaning on the counter to maintain her balance, "this was a one-time thing; yes, I really did enjoy it, no point in lying, but, that does not mean I..."

"We'll talk about it another time, baby," he interrupted her sternly. "You better go get yourself cleaned up; you're all covered in jizz and dripping on my floor."

"I'll go now," she pointed her finger at him, after she had picked her clothes up, holding them under her arm, "but, this was a one-time thing; remember that."

"I sure like your confidence," he yelled after her, when she stormed out of the kitchen, highly agitated, and went for the front door.

She slammed the door shut and hurried back home; she got into the shower without any delay and spent a long time scrubbing herself up, wanting to ensure all evidence were erased.

Chapter 2

Lana stirred the pot solemnly, watching the meat boiling and mixing with the lettuce and dill as if there was some answer hiding in the process; her body was still half-numb from earlier, her vagina sore. However, the worst symptom was the constant whispering voice in her head calling her out for her mistake, and for the immense satisfaction she had derived from it.

Robert'd be home in an hour or so, Lana had dressed after the shower—wearing tight-fitting sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt—yet, she could still feel Stan inside of her, and on her; despite the intense scrubbing she had done in the shower, the amount of hot water she had let run through her body, the sense of dirtiness had not been removed.

The one thought, however, she could not, no matter how hard she tried to, shrug off was the excitement that had overwhelmed her during the whole ordeal; was it wrong she felt so good about it? That she enjoyed the sense of helplessness that had overcome her, when Stan turned demanding and rough?

She couldn't tell, the meal was nearly ready, Robert would step through the door at any given minute, and she could still not stop thinking of earlier, of how she had been bent over on the kitchen counter, pounded mercilessly by Stan and his monstrous member. Would she give in in a second encounter? If he came back and... she didn't want to think about it, didn't want even to consider the possibility.

Her mind was saying, emphatically, NO; it'd be wrong, just like the first time was, but, the first time did happen, the past does not change, there are no rewrites in life. What she did, she did, and she'd have to learn to live with the guilt for both the action and the joy she got out of it.

Yet, her heart and soul (and parts of her body) had a vastly different opinion; and it wasn't just the element of blackmail she knew would arise. It was simply the enthrallment of the ordeal, the loss of power and control. Stan had quickly taken over control of the situation and made her feel like merely a plaything.

She never had thought herself capable of being turned on with such situations; granted, she had spent some lonely mornings browsing porn on the Internet and remembered how excited she had been, when she found videos showcasing rough sexual acts, but, it had all been a fantasy. Something to keep her occupied, to help her momentarily forget the sense of loneliness, and uselessness, that haunted her ever since Jenna had left for college.

The sound of a key hitting the lock reached her ears and immediately she collected herself; drew a deep breath, closed her eyes for a few seconds, then exhaled slow and easy.

"Hey honey," Robert smiled widely, when she met him at the door and embraced him briefly. "How was your day?"

"Like always; just..." she said, suddenly finding herself at a loss, a part of herself ready, eager, to confess. "Nothing out of the ordinary; I just stayed home, did some housework, cooked... that kind of stuff."

"You washed your hair?" He asked, running his fingers through her soft, blow-dried hair. "They look really nice."

"Thank you," she smiled, then kissed him on the lips—an act which she instantly regretted, as she feared her mouth still tasted of Stan. "How was your day?" She asked, when they had sat down at the kitchen table, desperately trying to hang on to her smile and joyful behavior.

"Hard," he said heavily. "You know, I'm beginning to regret my line of work..."

"Why, baby?" She reached out and touched his arm tenderly.

"It's... Can I get some coffee, please?"

"Definitely," she jumped up, prepared two cups of instant coffee. "Not hungry? I've made..."

"I'm hungry," he reassured her, after a short sip of the scorching coffee, "but, I really needed a coffee right now, you know?"

"What happened at work?" She asked, worrisomely.

"Nothing extraordinary, per se; it was just a usual day. It's just... with the whole situation of the world, with how things are going, it's... back when I started, I usually did the accounting for flourishing business, most of my clients were doing well, they needed help with managing their money, investing them...

"Now," he sighed in despair, "everybody's one step away from destruction. My clients, even those I've known for years, are trying to pay their taxes, are trying to make ends meet; and nothing seems to work. They come to me hoping I'll wave my little wand and make their troubles disappear.

"Obviously, I can't! And it's killing me! They tell me about their children, their mortgaged houses, their businesses that are indebted to the bone... they've got nothing to live for, except for to pay taxes and meagerly survive!

"Many of them have no money to pay me, either; I'm probably owed more than a few grand, yet, I sincerely doubt I'll ever see them. It's... I don't know what we're going to do," he collapsed, rested his forehead on the table and came close to bursting into tears.

Lana, remorse still swarming her soul, kneeled next to him and hugged him from the shoulders.

"It's going to be alright," she said, as reassuringly and steadfastly as she could, "you'll see; it's just a phase. The economy will recover again; everything will go back to how it was."

"When?" He cried, his eyes bloodshot. "When our great-grandchildren are in college? Because, the ways things go, there's a big chance no next generation will have a better life than the previous. We, love, may just as well be the last generation that fared better than our parents and grandparents."

"I've never seen you so pessimistic, Robert," she said, in a muttered complaint.

"It's just..." he breathed in deeply, wiped his eyes with his fingers, and made a desperate attempt to smile. "A client of mine, today, declared bankruptcy. Couldn't pay any more of his debts to banks and the state; he lost it all. His house, his car, his bookshop... he's going to move back in with his parents, who live in a small island; he's going to be a fisherman, just to provide a daily plate of food to his children.

"I've worked for him, and with him, for over fifteen years, Lana," he chuckled melancholy, "I've known him for so long... and to see him in the state he was in today, was..."

"He owes you money, too?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "five thousand, give or take. But, I don't expect to see them anytime soon... I'm at the bottom of the list of those who'll get their money back, when they auction all his possessions. If there is still money left after the banks, the state, those to whom he owes big amounts, are paid, I'll get mine, too; but, I doubt it'll happen.

"That's what worries me the most, you know? That, one day, I may end up like Trevor. That... that..." he stopped, barely able any longer to control the streams of tears.

"Honey," she took his head in her bosom and gently caressed him, "it's going to be all right; you know it. We'll find a way to make it, even if the worst is to happen. Which it won't," she told him sterner, holding his head in her hands. "Do you hear me? We'll be just fine."