Sweet Neighbor Jane

"Not here," I said, pulling free. "Downstairs. Better downstairs."

\ \ \

Bryce sprawled on the sofa in the den with his legs wide and his arms thrown over the back. He watched while I pulled the drapes and darkened the room, then lit candles.

"Love the atmo," he said.

"Take your shorts off," I told him.

He gave me that grin again as he lifted his narrow hips and worked his cutoffs down his thighs.

"You gonna sit?" he said.

"Boots and socks," I said. "Leave the jock strap or whatever that is."

I audioed music, a sensuous jazz piece that opened at a slow tempo, then built for twenty minutes to an ecstatic climax, and an abrupt end.

"When the music's over, we're done," I said.

"You're gonna finish what you start."

"I intend to," I said, "in under twenty minutes."

"And if you can't?"

"Stand a couple of feet in front of the fireplace."

"What, you're completely in charge now?"

"Behave and you won't believe what you're in for."

"Sheeeit."

He stood in place. I was circling him, gliding my nails down his back, impressed by the sharp contrast between his tanned body and his cheeks, the gird of his loins, as they used to say, as though it had been taped and spray-painted precisely pale. He was happy to stand stand there, flexing muscle, shaking it out, flexing again.

"I kinda knew this could happen," he said.

"Stay. Don't touch me, I touch you."

The triangle of fabric in front was showing some stretch. I slid a nail over it. He liked that.

On the next pass around I stopped, facing him, slipped both hands under the waist band, and worked it down, allowing the triangle to hook on the head of his developing hard-on. Creates a nice tension.

I let the elastic snap on his thighs and, circling again, squeezed a handful of firm buttock. Then gave it a slap.

"Don't think you're gonna spank my ass," he said.

I slid my nails over his cheeks, leaving trails against the stark white, then reached

between his legs to cup his loose hanging balls. The other hand reached around and ran fingertips up his erection to where it was snagged. A little teasing through the elastic, then release! That freed thing sprang to its natural angle. Balls in one palm, I polished his tip with the other. If I wanted to, I was sure, I could get him off halfway through the second solo.

"First and last time, like I said."

Then I took full hold of that stirring instrument and began to play.

/ / /

He became impatient. "Suck it, fuck it, c'mon, c'mon, do me."

"Try not to talk," I said. "Grunt when you have to."

My tempo matched the music. Into the final crescendo, a two minute climb, his muscles resembled taut rope. I pulled him by his cock to the fireplace and had him spread his hands on the mantle. Keeping grip, I knelt and ignited the gas fire.

"You ain't gonna burn me, bitch," he said.

"I want you to cum on the fire. See if you can shoot that far."

"Lady, you're a true freak."

I intended to end the way I had started, reaching 'round. Pressed behind him, I jacked in earnest, palming his balls again and whispering for him to cum, baby, cum for me, cum for me, and I rocked my hips as if butt fucking him and with each thrust felt his dick slide through my loosened fist. He growled something and I felt him pulsing and looked to see the first wave of ejaculate, a long string of white spunk that arced into the fire and hissed - boiled, blistered and burned — followed by another arc and another. Bryce was still twitching as the jazz piece tore through its final bars and cut cleanly into silence. I squeezed the last fluid from his slit, took it as a drop on a fingertip and flicked it, thtt, into the flames. He was shiny with sweat, hands on his knees, bent over like an exhausted runner, panting, "Fuck--fuck--fuck."

\ \ \

Bryce's panting became clapping. The same rhythm, clap--clap--clap.

Jane was descending the stairs.

"You timed that incredibly perfectly," she said.

"My god, Jane, how long have you been there?"

"Since 'Don't think you're gonna spank my ass,' I think."

"Did you get off?"

"Not as much as you."

She ambled toward us. Something was amiss.

"You could've -- Why didn't -- I mean, together --," I said.

"Do him together?"

"Still can," Bryce said. He hadn't caught his breath yet.

Jane said, "You like jacking guys, like it's a weird art."

Bryce straightened up behind me.

I said, "Jane, what's going on?"

"Bryce, baby, was it that good?

"A little twisted, but yeah."

"Scale of one to ten?"

"A B+?"

Jane shrugged. "It's like dollars and euros."

I felt as if I was being tripped backward.

"Oh no -- no-no," I said.

"Bryce, hold her arms."

"Like this?" He pulled my elbows behind me.

I was working to stay calm.

"What are you doing, Jane?."

Bryce arched my back, just enough to jut my breasts. Jane pulled my blouse free of my skirt and undid the buttons.

I said, "Stop now, let me go."

She spread the blouse open and gazed at my chest and grinned like a cat. She touched each nub through the fabric of my bra, saying, "Oh, look . . . my new favorite toys."

Bryce kept me from moving. All of Jane's attention went to my nips. "Look how big and fat they are, like cupcakes on these titties. Watch what happens to her when I . . . tease them . . ."

She flicked and scratched. Bryce caught my weight.

"Dang, you're makin' her weak," he said.

"Yeah," she said. "Watch me make her helpless."

She went to work with pointed cruelty. While she tweaked and tugged, her free hand unzipped my jeans and slid into my panties to find my cun, slick and eager. She made me hump her hand. Within moments I cried outright, promising anything she wanted, anything, if only -- her finger slipped in and out -- if only -- in and hook -- fucking please --

Jane looked past me to Bryce.

"Want me to make her blow you?"

"Make the bitch gimme head? Dang, yeah!"

I felt sick, as helpless as a rag doll.

She cupped my puss in her hand, heel on my clit, and fingered me, curled to the g-spot. Rocking. Pressure inside and out. Not rough, insistent.

"Cum," she said, "and you suck his dick, understand, Connie?"

She hurt my nipple. I fell away from myself. The first convulsions of orgasm were as vivid as pain. Then came the release of a torrent waterfall, a river tumbling through light. Bryce held me on my feet.

My juices had slicked Jane's palm. She swiped the wetness across my chest, then held her palm under my nose.

"Take her to the couch," she said, "make her sit."

Bryce dragged me backward and threw me on the sofa with my legs splayed and tits hanging out. Jane told me to get naked. As I wriggled my clothes off, she knelt in front of Bryce and kissed his erection with easy acquaintance. He touched her cheek while she mouthed him, looking up with smiling eyes. I had been criminally stupid to not have realized that she had been fucking him all along. It fanned my shame. She pulled her lips off the head with a popping sound.

"That's how he likes it," she said.

She stood up, walked over. Leaned close with an edgy smile and jiggled my tits before sitting in front of me on the rug. Her look had no sympathy as she peeled her socks off. Then she used her bare feet to direct me. Hitch forward, open my knees, wider. Her sole pressed like a dry tongue on my puss. The feeling took my breath. Jane rocked her foot and laughed as I humped to meet it.

"She's a natural," I heard her say. "I'm gonna make her cum again. Go ahead, fuck her mouth."

Bryce stepped onto the couch and angled for my face. "Open," he said. The hot, spongy head flattened my tongue, pressed my pallet. Jane gripped my clit between her toes. In seconds — voom — again, a white obliteration.

They hauled me off the sofa before I had fully recovered and draped me, stomach down, over the padded end rest. Jane laughed as Bryce beat my ass cheeks with his erection while I held a pillow over my head. He slid into me like an eel in oil and fucked me to my third orgasm. Jane made him pull out before I had a fourth.

"Damn, baby, why?" he said. "This bitch can't get enough."

Jane smacked my bottom.

"Move."

Hitching onto the arm rest, facing Bryce, she said, "I want some too, asshole."

/ / /

I sat at the opposite end of the couch and watched them fuck. Bryce wanted to do Jane the way he'd done me, from behind, bending her over the end rest. She became flush, her face thickened, even her eyelids. She bit the pillow as she came, growling and beating her fists. I had read somewhere that a woman is most beautiful when she is about to orgasm, but Jane put a doubt on it.

She was over-sensitized after her orgasm and forced Bryce to pull out. He left her and signaled that I should lay on the rug. As I did, he straddled my stomach and dropped to his knees, wanting a tit fuck.

"Slide down more," he said. "Like that. Yeah. Now squeeze them beauties together."

The back of my head was pressed to the couch. His erection poked my chin until I managed to shift and get my mouth aligned. We moved in sync, in sync, and finally in sync, until he stood up and jacked furiously. I kept my tongue extended, ready to accept any bitter snowflakes that might land, drops as warm as liquid wax.

\ \ \

They left and I sat with my knees drawn up on the couch. The long shower that followed filled the master bath with heat and steam.

Later, I stepped into the cool dusk of my yard and walked to the gate with the old padlock slung on a finger, made functional again. I locked the gate and left the key in the core to rust.

/ / /

The pool reflected moonlight. I sat with my feet in the water, unable to cry, and I thought about what I had to say to Len. I'm not staying here. This is no way to live. I need your tenderness now, more than ever.

It was something I had to do.

I should tell you about Jane, about my slutty escapade / transgression, my shaming

debacle, the way I let myself be fucked, but I'm too chickenshit.

I had turned my life into a lie.

He might say, How could you have been so stupid, Con? If they were Internals --

The possibility had never occurred to me, not until that moment. If they ...

No.

I moved my feet underwater and broke the moonlight into waves.

Impossible.

I realized then, that from a place not too far, a neglected dog was barking.*