Escape From Passionville
I was driving away; away from my wife, all I own, my entire life it seemed. It was the right thing to do, otherwise everything that made me, me, would have descended into madness like all the others.
It had all seemed so promising, so idyllic once.
As I drove, I needed a kick in the ass so I had an Iron Maiden CD in the car’s player, and Bruce Dickinson was singing my song:
…is it a hand on
your shoulder from the lord above
or the devil himself come to give you a shove?”
Indeed, what at first looked like divine providence soon had turned into a thing of evil, and I was running from it as fast as I could drive.
I’m Scott. My job had become one where cyber-commuting made sense, and because my wife’s work also was perfect for telecommuting, we decided to look for a new place to live away from big-city hustle and bustle. We did a lot of research on-line and with real estate brokers until we found Passionville.
Passionville seemed like everything we wanted in a gated community of homes. The town it was in was mostly upper-middle class, a high percentage like my wife and I techies escaping the rat race. Our broker described the inhabitants as “eccentric,” “eclectic” and “fun;” words that painted a picture for Cindy and I of exactly what we hoped for, and far from the dull suburbanites we’d been living amongst. We certainly thought of ourselves as sophisticated and avant-garde and wanted to have neighbors who were likewise. The houses were beautiful and surprisingly affordable considering the locale. We couldn’t wait to move in to the house we chose.
Like something you’d find forty years ago, a group of people showed up as we were moving in. This veritable welcome wagon of neighbors not only helped us organize after the movers had left, but brought a wide variety of food and wine, creating an impromptu party.
Our immediate next-door neighbors, Myron and June, were among our greeters. The surreal atmosphere of the welcoming somehow extended to their names: does anyone call their kids Myron and June anymore? Though I didn’t say anything to them, they looked like their names, and like a couple straight out of a 1950’s sitcom. Myron was a large man, though not fat by any means. I wondered if he’d played football in college, since he had the physique, and the crew cut. June was the opposite, a small-breasted, pretty, petite brunette, with her hair tied back in a ponytail; very demure as she let her husband do most of the talking. The dissimilarity wasn’t just between husband and wife. My Cindy often drew comparisons to Nicole Kidman but with Pam Anderson’s breasts (though all natural), so as the two wives got acquainted I couldn’t help notice the contrast. Cindy was more loquacious than June as well.
As we met all these new neighbors, I was surprised to hear snippets of conversation among the group that sounded sexually suggestive, though maybe I’d misinterpreted the remarks. For all her voluptuous attributes, Cindy had never been a responsive woman in bed. Early in our marriage I blamed myself, believing that I was an inferior lover. I had one affair—a short-lived workplace fling—that altered my belief. My mistress had been multi-orgasmic with me, praising my lovemaking ability. With this small sample, I decided Cindy had the ‘problem’ and not me. I’m telling you all of this so you understand how my curiosity was piqued by what I heard. My sexual fantasies were still strong ones, after all.
“We should all leave you two alone to christen your new home, if you know what I mean,” said Myron, and he actually winked when he said it. The way he ogled my wife wasn’t hard to miss.
June then said, more to her husband than to us, as if to seek his permission, “We’re having a small dinner party this coming Saturday. You’ll be settled in by then, so how about joining us?”
Cindy and I were eager to assimilate into our new neighborhood, so we quickly agreed. We had so much work to do getting everything in order in addition to our jobs the days flew by and before we knew it, it was the night of the party.
“How about this one?” Cindy asked, holding the slinky blue cocktail dress against her bare bosom.
“You know, Cindy dear, if you wear it like that without a bra there won’t be a man there without a stiff dick.”
She gave me one of her patented sour expressions, saying “Damn, that’s all you men think about!”
I gave one of her beautiful tits a squeeze and said, “Yeah, that’s about right.”
She decided to wear a strapless bra under the spaghetti-strapped mini-dress. She looked good enough to eat, and thinking that, I remembered the way Myron had ogled her with obvious lust. Let all the men lust for her; she was mine.
When we entered their house we both breathed a sigh of relief, as we’d guessed correctly on the level of dress, something we had fretted over. Like me, the men were in casual sport-coat attire, while the women all had short dresses. It was easy to admire the great legs I was being introduced to. As I’d wondered that first day we moved in, the way some of the men approached other men’s wives suggested that perhaps these folks may be swingers. The idea intrigued me a bit, though I doubted Cindy would ever go for anything of that sort.
We had a good time. Nothing overtly happened to suggest swinging, as we drank and conversed. Cindy commented to me early in the evening on who made a good first impression and who didn’t. Her thoughts mirrored mine.
Late in the evening, June asked the group if they wanted Myron to hypnotize anyone. Since I had no idea what she was talking about, I asked.
“My Myron is one of the best hypnotists around. He can make you do anything,” she said. Amazingly, she blushed a deep red when she said it.
Anything? I didn’t believe that anyone could be forced to do something under hypnosis that they wouldn’t do freely otherwise. I voiced my skepticism, much to Cindy’s chagrin. She nudged me and whispered, “Don’t be like that, he’s our host after all.”
“You volunteer, then,” I whispered back.
She didn’t, but another woman named Katie volunteered. While Myron did his mumbo-jumbo ‘you-are-getting-sleepy’ routine with the nervous Katie, June came over to sit next to me. Unlike her conservative dress on moving day, this evening she wore a black strapless sheath dress, which was nothing more really than a tight fitting tube. When we’d arrived, I couldn’t help notice her lack of any panty lines, nor even a thong line, under that form-fitting dress. Made me wonder.
She moved up close to me and said in a low voice, “Katie’s very shy, Scott. She doesn’t have a clue how sexy she is. Look at her.”
I sure was. While Myron put her into a trance, or whatever it’s called, I acknowledged what June was saying; Katie was very pretty, with her long, slender legs her best asset. I asked June what her husband was hypnotizing her for.
“She needs to open up more, to feel. Myron will help her do that. He’s so good.”
I didn’t quite know what hypnosis had to do with feeling, so I sat back and watched. Myron took a subdued-looking Katie by the hand, helped her from her chair, and quietly led her out of the living room. I thought: don’t we get to see the ‘cure?’ The rest of the group sat there, evidently, like me, waiting for a revelation, though their expressions seemed more anticipatory and less puzzled than the one on my wife’s face, and probably mine.
The loud moaning coming from the other room surprised the hell out of me. I was about to ask our hostess about it when the sounds grew unmistakable, and she spoke instead, whispering next to my ear, “Doesn’t she sound exquisite, Scott? It won’t take her long to scream. My, oh my, look at your wife. She looks so aroused! Maybe next time she’ll volunteer.”
I glanced at Cindy, and she was indeed flushed and breathing in rapid bursts. Her breathing turned shallower as the noise from the other room grew frantic. I could not believe that they were having real sex. It had to be a trick. Katie’s husband looked relaxed, and I knew that if my wife was in there with Myron, I would’ve been in there getting her long before now.
That’s when June moved in closer and placed her hand on my crotch. “Oh Scott, you feel so big. Cindy is a lucky woman, and I bet she’ll be screaming tonight, just like Katie.”
As if on cue, Katie squealed “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” over and over until her cry was unintelligible to us in the living room. My wife sighed upon hearing that cry as June gave my bulge a quick squeeze, whispering, “Fuck her good tonight. I’ll be thinking of you, Scott.”
The entire scene was beyond bizarre. Myron and Katie returned with no outward sign anything sexual had taken place. Katie’s dress looked a bit askew, but her demeanor seemed to be no different than before she was hypnotized, if in fact that’s what had happened. I still couldn’t shake the belief the whole thing had been an elaborate hoax, and that my wife and I were the only ones not in on it.
June returned to her husband’s side. Katie sat with her husband, chatting quietly though no more animated than any of the other couples. I turned to Cindy and said, “So, what did you think of that?”
She looked at me as if I had two heads. “Think of what?” she said. “You mean the hypnosis? I think it’s cool. Myron seems so sweet and attentive, like maybe I’ll let him hypnotize me sometime.”
Over my dead body, I thought. “What do you think he hypnotized her for?”
“Oh, to make her feel happy; I sensed she’s not usually a very happy lady and now look at her. See how she glows? And see how happy her husband is too.”
Yeah, she was glowing all right.
The rest of the evening was nothing more than what it was supposed to be, a cocktail party among neighbors. Except for the incredulous (I still had my doubts) hypnotism, there were no signs of any other intentions. When things wound down, everyone said their goodbyes with cheek kisses and a few hugs. June gave no indication she was the same woman who felt me up earlier as we said goodnight.
One of June’s comments to me remained burned into my memory: “My, oh my, look at your wife. Doesn’t she look aroused?” As we entered our house, I saw she still was. I also remembered how June whispered that Cindy would be “screaming” tonight. I figured at least that part would be a reward for attending the strange gathering.
I got that wrong too.
Cindy said she wanted to take a shower before bed. Nothing wrong with that. I offered to join her, but she said no. I waited, feeling my own anticipation of hot sex grow as she showered, but soon I heard a faint buzzing sound above the sound of spraying water, followed by the obvious vocalization of an orgasm, sounds I didn’t hear as often as I liked.
Okay, I thought, she just relieved me of foreplay duties, but when she joined me in bed she begged off my advances, saying she was too tired. She did make a few more comments about how much fun the party had been and how gracious a host Myron was.
Yes, I got fucked, but not the way I wanted.
One evening later that same week, another couple who lived down the street, Jan and Bill stopped to talk to us as we worked outside. They’d been jogging but weren’t out of breath, which sort of pissed me off for some reason.
Jan asked Cindy if she wanted to attend a party at their house on Saturday night. She said, “It’s a sex toy party, just like Tupperware but a whole lot more fun,” with a straight face, one I never could have pulled off if I said that line. In a deadpan serious voice not much different than Jan’s, Cindy asked about the selections and price ranges. While Jan explained the ‘catalog,’ Bill kept his eyes glued to my wife’s chest. I could understand why, since her sweat-wet tank top and thin sports bra didn’t leave much to the imagination. Her nipples were stiff, and maybe if I looked at Bill’s shorts he’d be stiff too. I was more shocked at Cindy’s matter-of-fact interest than I was at Bill’s, since I was used to the latter but not the former.
Maybe because of Bill’s leering, I asked, “Are husbands allowed at this party, or is it an all-girl thing?”
Jan giggled and said, “No men allowed. It’s one of my daughter’s rules.”
“Daughter?” I said, as if I didn’t hear her correctly.
“Brittney likes her toys, and sometimes she shows off how they’re used, and we can’t have men around then, can we?”
“You don’t look old enough to have a daughter that age,” I said.
Jan beamed. “Thank you, Scott! Britt is fourteen so that doesn’t make me THAT old, but thanks for the compliment anyway. Isn’t he a sweet man, Bill?” she said, nudging her husband.
He took his eyes off Cindy’s chest long enough to agree with his wife that I was indeed a swell guy. What’s in the water around here—a fourteen-year-old expounding on the proper use of sex toys? I have to admit the mental image stirred something in my loins, but come on, these two must be the dumbest parents in town.
Well, Cindy accepted the invitation, and I wondered what I’d do to occupy my time Saturday night while Brittney was demonstrating the latest two-headed vibrator or whatever.
After the couple jogged away, I said to my wife, “Cin, dear, what exactly are you looking for in this party?”
“Ah…I don’t know…maybe I’m going just to get to know our new neighbors better.”
If her nipples had been prominent before, then now they were like a neon sign flashing “I’m hot and horny.” I tried talking her into bed right then and there, but she told me I was silly. Was I all wrong in reading the signs?
During the week I got to see what this Brittney looked like, and damned if she wasn’t prime, Grade-A jail bait. I had more of those images of her and a dildo. I damned near came in my pants I was so fucking horny.
After Cindy left for Jan’s house, I decided to forego television and do some reading. A half hour into my book I heard the doorbell. As I walked to answer the door, I wondered if it was one of the abandoned husbands, though I supposed a husband like me wouldn’t feel too abandoned when imaging his wife and a teenage girl showing off the latest in sex toy technology.
It wasn’t a husband, it was a wife.
“Hello June,” I said upon discovering her on my doorstep. “You’re not at Jan’s party, I see. What can I do for you?”
“Oh, nothing, I guess I just felt a little left out, that’s all. Figured I’d visit someone I could commiserate with.”
“Come on in.” I held the door wide and she walked by me into the house, an alluring scent trailing her, one I couldn’t place. She was wearing tight designer jeans and a tank top with no bra. Again, she destroyed my first impression of her as an old-fashioned, suburban housewife. “Can I get you something?”
“You have any wine? A nice white would go well right now.”
I went and opened a bottle of Chardonnay Cindy and I had saved for a special occasion that never seemed to come. I was a little nervous having June here alone, especially dressed like she was. I delivered a glass to her and invited her to sit on the sofa next to me. Well, not too close to me.
“You never said why you’re not at the party, and what’s this about commiserating?”
“Myron’s off with his buddies doing God knows what, and a girl can only have so many sex toys. I mean, how many vibrators and fur-lined handcuffs do you need?”
“I can’t answer that, June. Cindy seems to get by with one vibrator, and I haven’t seen any handcuffs yet.” I said it facetiously, but she didn’t take it that way.
“Wow, if she only has one vibrator that must mean you’re a great lover. Are you, Scott?”
She was unmistakably coming on to me, which was flattering since she was a hot little spinner, and the memory of how she touched me at the cocktail party was still fresh. I should have had the willpower to withstand the advances sure to come, but my sex life with Cindy had turned perfunctory at best. She sidled closer to me on the sofa and I let her. Ah, those points, those nipples!
“You’re a good man for not answering me. I bet you’re the best, and I know if I was Cindy I’d be here drinking this fine wine and then dragging that nice ass of yours to bed.”
What was I supposed to say to that?
What I did say was, “I wish sometimes she thought like that.”
June gasped, “You mean she’s not hot for you?! I can’t understand it. Maybe she should let my husband hypnotize her.”
I thought: and let him fuck her? “I guess that’ll be up to her, won’t it?”
Maybe the same sentiment she attributed to my wife could be attributed to Myron, since he seems to need to hypnotize women to fuck them while his obviously nymphomania-repressing wife is here at my house, possibly trying to seduce me.
“You’re right. She, like us, is an adult who can make up her own mind about things like that,” she answered, before taking another sip of wine. “Mmmmm, this is good,” she said, “How many toys do you think your wife will buy today?”
“I have no idea.” The image of Cindy, Jan, Brittney, and others trying out vibrators and giant dildos sprawled around Jan’s living room popped back into my head, with the expected result.
“Is that for me, Scott?” June cooed, gazing at my crotch.
No, but I wouldn’t tell her that. “Maybe” was my feeble response.
No further words were uttered. She was all over me, her tongue reaching for my tonsils while her hand kneaded my growing bulge. I no longer could fight the temptation of the flesh—her flesh. Clothing flew as we stripped in a frenzy of flailing limbs. “I need it, Scott. I need you,” she murmured.
I needed something. I’d reserve judgment on whether that something was her.
June was the ultimate definition of a dynamo. She fucked me, plain and simple. There on my sofa she climbed aboard and her tight little ass was like a piston in an engine. Her mouth remained rooted on mine as she rapidly stroked up and down, up and down. She pulled away from my lips, thrust her head back and kept going. I watched her nice little firm tits with their swollen nipples bounce in unison to the rest of her.
I had no firmer belief that I’d cum long before she did, but that worry became a non-issue when she wailed like a banshee that she was having “the best” orgasm of her life. That was it. Her cry and the clamping down of her contracting vagina walls pulled every last rope of semen from me.
After cleaning up, June declared that out sex had been “better than with any of Jan’s silly toys.” She said, “Scott, you’re the greatest,” as she dressed.
I didn’t know how great I’d been, seeing that she’d done all the work. A stiff, sex-starved pole had been my contribution; that was all. I saw her to the door, and she left after kissing me chastely. I watched her jean-encased tight little ass wiggle down my walkway, and wondered what really just happened (besides a good lay, that is).
By the time Cindy came home, I’d nearly fallen asleep on the sofa. Because of my interlude with June I wanted Cindy to give me all the details of her evening, mostly to keep her from asking me about mine; seeing that I’m not the best liar. Since she carried a bag, I was also curious about her purchases.
“It was a really fun night,” she told me. “Jan had some really cool toys. Myron did some kind of group hypnotism thing. He said it was to relax us but I think he was in league with Jan to get us to buy more, she said, then laughed.
“Myron was there?” I nearly shouted. “I thought it was women only.”
“Well, basically it was, except when Myron and Ron showed up.”
“You met him. Katie’s husband.”
Oh yes, the guy with the goatee who thought nothing of having his friend fuck his wife at a party. I said, “So, tell me all about it.”
She giggled—an honest to goodness giggle—and told me about the party:
“We had a great time…”
“Jan had a lot of cool things for sale…”
“You should’ve seen the big vibrating dildo she had!”
“That girl Brittney sure knows things, more than I did when I was her age…”
“Then after Myron hypnotized us we all got out of our panties and tried the toys…”
“It was strange having Myron there and not June…”
I waited until she ran out of gas, and then asked, “What did Myron and Ron do after you all dropped your panties and started playing?”
“Oh, they like watched. Wouldn’t you? I mean, we were all using these toys and—”
“And what?” I said impatiently
“Well, we sure did make lots of noise!”
For the umpteenth time I imagined a circle of half-naked women—including a fourteen-year-old—all vibrating themselves to orgasm; now with Ron and Myron their cheering section. I couldn’t rightly be indignant at them watching (if that’s all they did), since what I’d done with June, though not of my own instigation, was perhaps more lascivious.
Cindy showed me her purchases, taking them one by one out of her shopping bag. What, no fur-lined handcuffs? The items she bought, vibrators, ticklers and a butt plug, suggested that I wasn’t always going to play a role in their use.
“Okay, you’ve painted the picture for me,” I said, pissed, “but the Myron and Ron part is still a little fuzzy. So, they just sat there?”
“Of course not, silly. We played a game.”
My wife could be flighty sometimes, but not necessarily capricious, so this conversation was coming straight out of the Twilight Zone. “What game?” I asked, afraid it had been something along the lines of ‘hide-the-salami.’
“Megan and Jan had a blowjob contest to see which one could get them to cum first. Megan did Myron while Jan did Ron. Jan won; you should have seen the mouthful!”
I was speechless. Maybe these folks were closet swingers after all, though something didn’t quite fit; it all seemed more depraved than that. Cindy carried her new toys to our bedroom, leaving me behind to wonder about her, this neighborhood, and what was to come.
Except for lack of sex, things were pretty much normal for a few weeks. Cindy seemed to take to her toys more than she took to me. That got me thinking more of June. I fantasized of ways I could approach her; maybe get her alone so we could fuck again. That’s when I thought of her husband and his perverted parlor tricks. How much of June’s visit to my house had been staged somehow? Had it been a tactic of hers and her husband to bring me into their strange fold, weaken my resolve? Perhaps drive a wedge between Cindy and me? The latter seemed to be happening, but whether it was planned was anyone’s guess.
When the Cranshaws spread the word about their own cocktail party, Cindy was quick to accept the invitation. Sam and Megan Cranshaw hadn’t really impressed me much as a couple. Hearing that she’d participated in the “blow-off” at Jan’s party gave her more demerits. Sam looked to be the poster child for the old word milquetoast, while his wife left even less an impression.
Cindy was ebullient the day of the party. She dressed accordingly. Her tits strained her dress and its hemline strained decorum. I wanted to ask if she was wearing panties, but feared her answer. Maybe she knew something I didn’t. Maybe tonight would be the premiere of full-fledged swinging, which got me thinking of June. What would she be wearing? Would she acknowledge our recent tryst?
Megan greeted us at the door in an extremely low-cut dress. Her cleavage was modest even while she wasn’t. Her husband openly ogled Cindy’s chest as we entered, and soon was joined by Myron, Bill, Ron and every other man there.
Drinks were poured and consumed. Small talk lived up to its name. While Cindy was off conversing with Jan, June finally approached me.
“Hi Scott, I’m glad you two came. Cindy sure lights up a room, doesn’t she.”
“How have you been, June?” I glanced over at my wife just as Bill tried to look down her dress. “Yeah, she lights it up alright.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. Let her have her fun. We’ll have ours.”
I looked down at her. Was her meaning obvious or simply innocent banter? “So, what is the ‘fun’ tonight?” I asked.
She grew more animated, saying “I know for one thing that Bill’s dying to share his new find with all you men, and your women, of course.” She giggled.
“His find?” I asked, wondering why my half of these conversations always ended up being questions.
“Bill get’s these new drugs from Asia that are better than Viagra. Just as Jan likes to have her toy parties Bill likes introducing his latest finds to all you guys. Myron told me he found some medicine that increases the amount of semen a man ejaculates, maybe tenfold. If that’s true, I’d love to see you take it, Scott, because you already shoot a great load.”
She said all this matter-of-factly. I must have had an incredulous look on my face, for she then said, “It’s not like they’re Oxycodone or Ecstasy or anything like that, I mean, the Feds don’t care about this stuff at all.”
June was wearing a tight little dark emerald cocktail dress that couldn’t hide the fact her nipples were stiff. I still could not believe the woman I first pegged as a prim suburban housewife would be like this; easy sex, drugs, and letting her husband hypnotize and screw the neighbors.
As advertised, Bill soon began telling everyone about his new pill discoveries. Besides the one June mentioned, he talked of an exotic formula that actually made a man’s penis grow, if only temporarily. “I have samples if anyone wants to try them,” he said to us men, “though if you do, you know we all want to witness the result.” Amazing! Like a bizarre sexual infomercial, but instead of seeing how well the Ginsu knife cuts, or the latest vacuum cleaner sucks, the lucky customer will get to demonstrate how his dick grew and how it’ll spray like a fire hose. Un-fucking-believable.
Until she spoke, I didn’t know June was next to me. “You should try them. You don’t need the one to make you bigger, but if I think of you getting any bigger than you are I’d never get it inside me, though that would be worth trying.” I looked at her, and she smiled back.
Cindy picked that moment to ask Myron if he was going to perform any hypnotism. He stared at my wife as if he had a banquet feast spread out before him. “Sounds like a good idea. Actually, I’ve adjusted my ‘well-being’ trance since the last time. It might be worth trying it out on the whole group.”
As Myron got everyone seated in a semicircle around him, with Cindy at his feet. I saw several of the men down pills they’d gotten from Bill. I’d noticed that Myron had taken two moments before.
He began his hocus-pocus mesmerizing spiel, first concentrating on my wife before opening his attention to everyone else. Besides the fact it did get me to relax more, I noticed no changes to me or anyone else while he maintained his soothing vocal cadence.
I was watching subtle changes in Cindy’s posture and breathing when June whispered in one ear while another neighbor, tall, nordic Inga whispered in my other one. They both urged me to try the pills, and they both suggested that afterwards they’d like me to remove my clothes and try out a new sex apparatus that Jan sold to Megan, and had been installed in the Cranshaws’ home gym. It all sounded quite reasonable to me.
I took two proffered capsules and chased them down with whiskey. Myron was through his hypnotic ritual and was speaking with my wife, close and personal. Sam Cranshaw sat next to Katie and was complaining about how tight his pants felt now that his cock had grown. Katie offered to free it from its constraints, and began unbuckling Sam’s belt. All around me men were reacting to the medicine, and the women were reacting to the men.
I submissively let Inga and June lead me to a room where two exotic harness contraptions were bolted to the ceiling, alongside an exercise machine and a treadmill. They undressed me, which I thought was a completely natural thing to do. When they undressed, I thought the activity equally natural as I marveled at the stark differences between the two women. Where June was petite, Inga was tall, curvy, and superbly buxom. Her breasts were larger than Cindy’s, but I was partial to my wife’s firm tits so I didn’t openly admire them, instead I looked down at my swollen, throbbing member. I never saw it so thick and purple before, and wondered why.
June cinched my wrists above my head to one of the harnesses while Inga slid into the other one, which held her legs spread and her ankles tied down in much the same way my hands were immobilized. Several partygoers drifted into the room behind us including Cindy and Myron. Cindy’s dress was off and she nonchalantly conversed with Myron wearing only her thong.
All very normal, I thought.
June helped Inga position herself before me, rubbed a bit of lubricant between her labia, and gave her a push. She gasped as I penetrated her. As she swung, she gasped more.
“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” she exclaimed over and over again, before crying out, “It’s TOOOOOO BIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!”
Too big? I absently looked down at my cock as she swung closer, impaling herself again on that big purple thing that used to be my dick. June held Inga’s hand and whispered to her that she was doing fine, to “enjoy” it. Inga was trying, she sure was.
In the meantime, I glanced around the room. I saw a familiar pair of feet, ankles, calves and thighs in the air, bracketing a pale, white ass as it plunged down and then back up again. Cindy was groaning and crying “Harder…harder…yes!” as Myron complied. I thought about how strange it was to see my wife getting fucked by another man, especially one with such a large, swollen cock, but then again wasn’t it strange to be tied down, nearly immobile, and yet still fucking another woman?
All very normal.
One of the wives not his own had been performing fellatio on Ron when all of a sudden he groaned and a steady stream of semen flew out of him and hit the ceiling with a splash.
All very normal.
Cindy screamed as her orgasm hit. Myron was about halfway in when he ejaculated, and that’s when the really amazing thing happened. As if under tremendous pressure, semen squirted out of Cindy’s cunt and around the shaft of Myron’s cock in such a torrent that I actually heard the splattering sound.
All very normal.
Inga was screaming too. Her cries began to drown out everyone in the room. I made out the word “cumming” though everything else she yelled was indecipherable. June pushed her away, and without preamble, bent over and moved backward to take me. June was tighter than Inga, so it was no small feat that my throbbing, grotesquely swollen member was able to penetrate her at all. She’d been right about that. Since I was basically in a fixed position, she did all the work.
June’s orgasm came quickly, and loudly.
She kept at it until she’d had a second one and knew I was ready to cum. She pulled herself off me and spun around, grabbed my cock and jerked it furiously. My cumshot hit just about everyone in the room, including my wife, who got a dollop in the eye. Seemed only fair. I kept cumming, well beyond anything I’d ever experienced before. My ejaculate travelled farther than I’d ever been able to piss! Everyone there was soaked except me.
All very normal.
Inga announced to everyone there what a fantastic fuck I was, though like with June, I hadn’t really done much to earn the praise.
June looked at all the cum I spewed and declared, “That might have killed me!” before a giggling fit took over. She might have been right about that too; her petite size could’ve meant I may have destroyed her womb with the extreme ejaculation.
Cindy, June, Inga, Katie and Megan all had a post-orgasmic glow, and I’m not referring to the glistening sheen of spent semen on their bodies. Bill’s medicines sure did work. Cindy blinked and looking at me, said, “Scott, why are you strapped to that thing?” as if she hadn’t seen me before and had no clue as to what had just occurred.
“I don’t know, honey. Why are you naked and covered in cum?”
“I am?” she said.
So surreal. And it all seemed so freakin’ normal.
I turned to Inga, who was out of her sling harness and standing beside me. “How about untying these straps?”
She giggled, her large tits wiggling and swaying along with her laughter. “Maybe,” she said, “maybe I can have some more.” She was looking at my cock so I did too.
It was still large, still swollen, still stiff.
Jan came hustling over from somewhere, naked like the others, and began arguing with Inga about who would have me next. Cindy watched the entire thing like she was watching a soap opera on TV.
Jan seemed to win the argument and she quickly got into the sling. She got the instant replay, as she swung to me and was impaled on my cock. Swing, swing swing. In-out, in-out, in-out. I could’ve used the phrase ‘going along for the ride’ though I wasn’t the one riding.
My climax surprised me since I felt none of the usual build-up. As with Myron and Cindy, cum squirted out from around my cock as it was half buried in Jan’s throbbing vagina. She squealed, presumably looking at her husband, “Bill! Bill! I’m cummmmmmming! Yes! Yes! Oh Lord I’m cummmmmmmmmming!...” as more and more semen sprayed and oozed from around my cock as I planted its head firmly at her cervix. “GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!” she screamed.
I hoped I hadn’t hurt her.
Eventually I was released from the harness, though not until my cock serviced a couple more of the wives before finally wilting. I overheard Inga talking about the party to her husband, Eric, while she got dressed, never mentioning sex, or me. Cindy slid back into her dress and told me she was tired and wanted to go home. I was going to tell her she still had dried semen in her hair and on her face, but figured we wouldn’t run into any strangers on the way home.
June sidled up to me as we were leaving and asked, “Did you have a good time, Scott?”
“Why would you even ask, June? It was a regular party, nothing special, right?” I really said that; I heard myself say the words.
She moved up to kiss me but instead whispered in my ear, “Myron had Cindy, so next time I’m yours…over and over again…as often as you like.”
I had no retort to that, so I took my wife by the hand and led her home. It wasn’t until I awoke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat that I realized how wrong everything had been.
No, it wasn’t all normal.
Cindy had showered at my urging as soon as we got home. Sex was out of the question, so for once I was glad Cindy wasn’t in the mood. She didn’t even use a single toy before bed. In the morning, I spent a great amount of time wondering how many memories of the party were real, or some figment of a Myron-hypnotized mind. Or maybe the drugs. Even my coffee tasted funny.
For the next week my mind was a fuzzy, addled mess. I couldn’t concentrate on work, and even if my wife wanted it, I doubted very much I could get it up for sex. Jan and Bill jogged by every day, but neither hinted at the events at the Cranshaws’ party when they stopped to chat. Eric dropped by one day to borrow my edger, but he gave no external clue that he was upset in any way with me. I’d fucked his wife, or more accurately she fucked me, right under his nose, but you’d never know it by our casual, neighborly conversation.
If I’d taken the call from June instead of Cindy, I would’ve declined, but my wife readily accepted her invitation to the next party. I almost told Cindy to go alone, however the memory of my neighbor Myron between my wife’s legs triggered jealousy, and maybe some deeply hidden protective trait, though Cindy didn’t act as if she needed protection.
The party was next-door, and when we arrived June met us at the door with a deep tongue kiss—for both of us. If Cindy was as uncomfortable with the kiss as I was, she didn’t show it. Most of the neighborhood crowd was there, or soon to arrive. I watched June greet the remaining arrivals, and no one got the same osculation greeting Cindy and I received.
Every time we had one of these neighborhood cocktail parties, June’s dress became more and more provocative. The clingy number she wore tonight was nearly transparent and shorter than hell (and twice as hot). With a little abrasion her taut nipples could probably wear through the thin fabric, and I thought that perhaps by the end of the evening they would.
After many drinks were poured, Myron made his flamboyant call for some hypnosis. When he asked several of the wives to gather closely around him, I figured tonight was his orgy night. True to form, Cindy was right there with Jan, Megan, Katie and the others. I had no desire to be part of this charade, so I stood and walked into the kitchen to get away.
I wasn’t alone long, for June and Inga soon joined me.
“Why are you in here, Scott?” June asked with that little girl inflection of hers.
“I just didn’t want to be party to your husband’s sex games. I mean, my wife is out there and he’ll fuck her again.”
“And you’ll fuck me again,” June said, moving closer. “Won’t you?”
Inga moved closer as well, pressing her impressive chest against me. “Me too!”
I chuckled at my luck, and its absurdity. “I suppose you want me to take a couple pills first.”
June pressed against me, opposite Inga. “Of course not, silly. You’re the only man in this neighborhood who doesn’t need them.” I must have unconsciously glanced at the doorway, since June added, “Though maybe I’m wrong and you’d rather be out there…with them.” To my ears, ‘them’ sounded like a filthy word coming from her lips.
I hadn’t noticed until then that Inga had a pair of furry handcuffs in one hand and what looked like a small whip in the other. She cooed, “Oh Scott, tie me down and hurt me, take me!”
June yelped, “I’m first! I promised him already.”
“Promised me what?” I asked her.
“I promised that we’d do it again since Myron was going to have Cindy again.”
“So, that’s the plan? If you all are swingers why not just open up about it? Why all this hypnotism hooey?”
“We’re not like that, Scott,” June said, now rubbing herself against me like a cat in heat. “We just like to try things, get to know our neighbors better. That’s all. Now, are you going to handcuff us and punish us for being such bad girls?” I think Inga wet her panties just then, at least that’s how I interpreted the animal sounds she made as June spoke.
“C’mon June,” I said, lifting her off the floor, bringing us eye-to-eye. “You’re one of the sexiest women I’ve ever known. You showed me at my house how you don’t need chains and whips to make love. What’s wrong?”
Inga gasped and said, “You fucked him at his house? Alone?”
June answered me, oblivious to Inga, “Scott, I need lots of things. Ever since we moved here I’ve not been satisfied. Your wife is the same way and you don’t get it. We ALL want more. Please put me down.”
I set her feet back on the floor. I glanced at Inga to see she was fingering herself, and by her facial expression just about ready to arrive at the big O. “Since my wife is getting fucked somewhere in the house, why don’t we go into a bedroom and make love like adults?”
June shook her head, saying once more, “You don’t get it.”
“What? What don’t I get, June?”
“You’re too nice a man to live in this neighborhood, Scott. You don’t fit in with the rest of us.”
“Why? Please explain it.”
Instead of answering, June turned to a just-climaxed Inga and said, “Let’s go find Ron and Bill. They’ll do what we want.” They left the room with their handcuffs and whip, leaving me with my unfulfilled hard-on and pondering my strange fate here in Passionville.
I finished my drink while I consider what to do. I was afraid of what I’d find if and when I returned to the party. Leaving by the back door wasn’t an option, with my wife still here, probably getting double-teamed or whatever. If I wasn’t lusting after June so badly I’d let my jealousies take over and get the hell out with or without Cindy, yet my libido remained a powerful thing. Eventually, I rejoined the others.
I was somewhat surprised to find Eric, Megan, Sam and Katie in the living room, fully clothed, sipping on cocktails, and talking politics. When Katie saw me she said, “Hey there, Scott. Where have you been?”
“I wasn’t in the mood for any more mesmerizing hocus-pocus, so I took my drink to the kitchen, that’s all.” I hoped my voice expressed bathos, but they didn’t look like they got it.
“Oh, don’t be a party pooper!” Eric said. “Cindy hasn’t been one, so you shouldn’t be one either.”
A scream emanated from an upstairs room just before I answered Eric with my questions. “So, Cindy’s been the life of the party, huh? I suppose your wife has been too?” The scream hadn’t solicited a single noticeable reaction from the quartet.
Eric genuinely looked puzzled when he said, “Inga? Oh, yes, Inga always loves a nice party, but why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason,” I said, as another scream echoed throughout the house, this one a long, ululating wail of clearly two female voices. Sounded to me like June and Inga, but I could’ve been wrong. I faced the four of them and said, “Hey, why don’t we go look for the others? I bet they’re having all the fun and leaving us out.”
Eric looked at me strangely, like I was asking him to wallow in a thicket of poison ivy. On the other hand, the Cranshaws both declared it a grand idea, and proceeded to drag Eric and Katie off the sofa to follow me.
I had no idea where we were going, nor why either for that matter, but I led the merry gang toward the loudest of the carnal sound effects. We walked upstairs. In the first bedroom we came to, Katie’s husband Ron was being whipped by June as he was fucking Eric’s wife, the bodacious Inga, from behind. Ron’s ass was a roadmap of crisscrossed red welts. June urged him on with more lashes. Inga screamed again. I thought I heard her say “five,” and wondered if she was counting orgasms.
I looked first at Eric and then Katie. Neither seemed the least bit put off seeing their spouses like this—the fucker and the fuckee. Sam and Megan, though, practically flew out of their clothes and fell to the floor in animal abandon. I was happy for them; at least they were husband and wife. June stopped whipping Ron’s ass long enough to look at me. She seemed to mime “Join us,” but I couldn’t be sure.
As much as I lusted after June, I couldn’t bring myself to join them.
I turned and walked away, heading to another room where I heard noise. The shocker wasn’t seeing my wife astride Bill, but Jan’s fourteen year old daughter Brittney under Myron, while her mother whispered encouragement in her ear.
I couldn’t help myself. I said, “How disgusting!”
Jan was the only one who reacted. “Why do you have to be such a spoil-sport, Scott? Brittney can have fun too, can’t she?”
I muttered, “Fuckin’ perverts and pedophiles, all of you.”
Perverted timing too, since Cindy picked that moment to scream out in climax. Brittney came moments later. When I saw that neither men wore condoms I realized I was beyond shock. I simply stood there, shaking my head, ready to punch the first guy who gloated about his sexual conquest.
It turned out to be Myron.
He got up from between Brittney’s legs and matter-of-factly said, “Hey Scott. Are you enjoying the party so far?”
Yes, he was a big man. He went down hard.
Cindy jumped up and confronted me, oblivious to her cum-dripping nakedness, and perhaps everything else. “Why did you do that? Myron is such a good man; he didn’t do anything to you.”
I looked down at Brittney, still lying on the bed, her eyes glassy as if still under a spell. I felt like kicking mesmerizing Myron in the head. Instead, I met Cindy’s confronting posture with my own. “Do you know who you are? Where you are? Who you’ve been fucking?”
She blinked. I saw it; an almost exaggerated accent to a mental pause. She looked at Bill, looked at Brittney, looked at Myron, still down and out, and then back to me. “W…what do you mean? It’s just a party. Why can’t you have fun like everyone else?”
I muttered the word “Fun,” as a voice spoke up in the doorway behind me. “I’m sorry, Scott. I really am.” It was June, wearing a kimono, a frown on her face. She motioned for me to follow her.
We left the room and walked to the now empty living room. “What are you apologizing for, June?” I asked. “Apologizing for letting your husband mess with my wife’s mind so he could seduce her? Apologizing for mixing us up in this crazy fucked up group?”
“Am I fucked up, Scott? Did I somehow do something evil that night at your place?”
“Then don’t condemn us. You think Cindy is so sexed up because of Myron? You do know that people can never be hypnotized into doing something they wouldn’t ordinarily do, right? Cindy—all of us—are doing things we want to do but never dared. Look at Jan. She grew up repressed and afraid of sex. She told me once that she never had an orgasm. Never. No masturbation, nothing. We helped her to find joy, to achieve multiple orgasms, and now she wants to make sure her daughter doesn’t lose out like she did.”
“Do you really believe your own bullshit explaining away your husband fucking a fourteen year old girl, without protection?” She looked away. I guess that answered my question. I moved closer and said, in a lower tone of voice, “June, why did you come to my house that night? You weren’t playing games with me, were you?”
“No I wasn’t.” She still wouldn’t look me in the eye. “I…needed…you. I…still do.”
I opened my arms and she fell into them. I felt her warm tears wet my shirt. More cries of ecstasy spilled from the bedroom above. Sounded like my wife. Again. From another direction I heard Katie’s ungodly scream, sounding more like pain than pleasure. Again.
“What do you want to do? Do you love your husband?”
She ignored the questions by asking her own. “Do you still love your wife, Scott?”
It didn’t catch me by surprise. I’d been pondering that question perhaps for a long time. I told her so, for some reason feeling I needed to unburden myself to this woman.
She’d let her kimono fall open, exposing her uplifted little cupcake breasts. I responded. I wasn’t sure where this was going but just then Sam, Megan, Katie, Ron, Eric and Inga came into the room, surprisingly fully clothed.
Ron shouted, “What happened to the party? Let’s have a drink!”
The image of his ass, covered in red welts, came to me and I couldn’t shake it from my memory banks. These neighbors were beyond freaky, I thought. What did I get myself into? I caught myself; was I already erasing Cindy from the equation? This was more than just about me, yet another orgasmic cry from upstairs confirmed that maybe I was right to think selfishly for once.
June disappeared, leaving me amongst the soon-to-be drunks. At least those here were finally acting like married couples. I guessed a part of this—what can I call it? Lifestyle?—is having a short memory, or delusion. As they snuggled together on the sofa, Eric certainly didn’t act like a man who just witnessed his wife getting fucked by another.
I left, never saying anything to our hosts.
Cindy never came home that night.
Throughout that Sunday I attempted to keep busy, trying to forget last night’s party and the fact my wife abandoned me. By afternoon I couldn’t take it anymore; I had to call over and find out if Cindy was okay, even if a part of me didn’t want to know.
June answered the call and told me that my wife was fine.
“When is she coming home?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” June answered. I hung up in disgust.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. It was June. The look on her face had me asking if she was okay. Something was wrong, I could see it.
“No, I’m not. My Myron and Cindy have been at it all night and now today…”
“So, you’re here to ‘commiserate’ again, or get some of your own?” I said sarcastically.
“Shit, no. Damn it, everything’s all fucked up, and now the police are at the Cranshaws’, something about a strangling. I don’t know…”
I grabbed her elbow and made her accompany me as I hurried to Sam and Megan’s house. When we got there, Jan and Bill were standing outside the yellow-taped perimeter.
Bill said, “They just took Sam away in an ambulance, and Megan in a cruiser. I got the idea, from what we heard Megan tell a cop, that they were trying out a new toy and they went too far.”
“Yeah,” piped in Jan, “we use that rope thing all the time and I never hurt you, have I dear?”
“Never, my love,” Bill said to his wife.
Great! A strangling toy for auto-erotic asphyxiation! Jan probably sold it to them. Un-fucking-believable!
As I watched the couple turn inwards, no longer thinking about the Cranshaws, Inga and Brittney came walking up, both in the stringiest string bikinis. I stared at them, one a grown woman and the other barely a teenager, and first wondered how they could brazenly walk the street with that much flesh showing, and secondly why they were together.
They never asked about Sam and Megan, just watched as police cleared away. “Where’s Eric?” I asked Inga, still perplexed about seeing the girl with her.
“I don’t know. We were sunbathing when we heard the sirens,” she said.
“And you’re getting here now?” I asked.
“Well, we had to put our suits back on, didn’t we?”
I had no response to that. What I did think was that they had to climax first, not letting good sex go to waste. This neighborhood had permeated my attitudes, I realized.
The show now over, everyone slowly drifted away, going back home to their little nests, leaving me and June as the only ones on the sidewalk in front of the Cranshaws’ quiet house. I began singing the old Mister Rogers song, “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…”
June was crying. “Stop that,” she said between sobs.
“Why? Everyone is just trying things, getting to know the neighbors better, isn’t that it?”
“Go home, Scott. I’ll make sure Cindy goes home too.” She walked away, still crying.
Cindy did come home, acting as if everything was completely, utterly normal. Later, I went to bed before her, mainly because I didn’t want to confront the probability of sexual rejection once again. My horniness had to go unsatisfied a little longer, or I’d have to face demons I was unwilling to face.
I fell asleep and eventually had the craziest dream: Cindy had me handcuffed to our bed and was putting a rope around my neck.
It wasn’t a dream.
I awoke with a start as she began tightening the noose-like end of the roped apparatus. Looming over me, she whispered, “You’ll have the best orgasm, you’ll see, Scott my dear.”
She was nude, her beautiful breasts rising and falling lusciously on every panted breath. I couldn’t speak, needing what little air I was getting to stay alive and not pass out. Cindy’s smile was radiant and haunting. As my vision became ragged at the edges, she looked at my crotch and her smile grew, as evidently something else was growing too. She climbed on top of me and I felt her extremely wet cunt envelop my cock. As my vision moved from gray to hazy black, she bounced energetically, moaning louder than I’ve ever heard her (though it sounded like she was at the far end of a long tunnel). I lost all desire to pull on the cuffs. Before my vision faded I marveled again on how beautiful her tits were, the way they bounced and swayed. In my mind’s eye, the only one still working, I imagined Sam Cranshaw at the penultimate moment, purple, bursting.
I burst. Cindy screamed.
I knew it wasn’t heaven or hell. Neither one would be this close to my own bedroom. June might have been in my heaven, but her face was too real to be an angel. I tried to talk to her, ask her why she was there. Had she died too? But I couldn’t speak.
Her voice came to me from somewhere. “You’re okay, Scott. I was in time. I knew.”
I wanted to ask her about everything. What did she know? I couldn’t, at least not yet.
She gave me a kiss. I felt it, so maybe this wasn’t heaven, or a dream. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it was good nonetheless. I needed it somehow. I realized (felt?) that she was naked next to me in bed. Her warm skin was silk against mine. Heaven could be a nice place, I hazily thought.
“W…W…” I tried, I really did.
“Sssh, don’t try to talk. Your throat. It’ll take a while, but thank God you’re alive. You almost…”
Eventually it all came back to me. Cindy. The rope. The blackness. As she lay next to me in bed, June explained what had happened at least from her angle. She was suspicious of my wife’s intentions after she practically forced her to go home. Myron had been pissed that his wife cut short his day of debauchery with the next-door neighbor’s wife, and that not only got June pissed off too, but brought along new suspicions.
As evening fell, June told me that her worries intensified. She was still stunned by what happened to Sam and Megan, and that only magnified her concern for me. She played voyeur and spotted Cindy with the choking contraption through an opening in our drapes. She knew what was happening.
“I was almost too late. I never would have forgiven myself if I had been. Oh Scott, I’m so mixed up right now. What have I been a part of? What have I let happen; to me, the neighborhood?”
I managed to croak my wife’s name but that was it.
“She’s back at my house, I think. Where else would she go?”
Now, I croaked her husband’s name.
“Yes, with Myron. Please don’t hate me. I knew what he was doing…what we were all doing. I enjoyed everything, never thinking it would go this far. Don’t hate me, Scott, for being so selfish, thinking only of my own sexual needs—”
“I…don’t,” I managed to say.
“Oh, Scott, you don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t have moved here. We shouldn’t have involved you. I should never have listened to Myron after that first day when he saw Cindy.”
I coughed, then hoarsely said, “I saw…you…too.”
Had Cindy ever looked at me the way June was at that moment? I couldn’t remember. She kissed me on the cheek. “I’m going home…to make things right, but I’ll be back.” The next kiss wasn’t on the cheek.
My throat hurt like hell, but I managed to clear my head and get out of bed. As I dressed, I nearly passed out once, but was able to keep myself together long enough to finish. It was almost midnight, yet no way was I going to leave my fight to June. I was going next door.
My breathing was labored but I got there, only to find the front door ajar. I tentatively walked in and called first Cindy’s name then June’s. I got no answer so I went looking. A few lights were on so it wasn’t completely dark. I called out June’s name again. No answer again. I moved to the stairs and ascended. Not until I reached the upstairs landing did I hear anything, a childlike squeal. That didn’t sound like my wife, I thought. I moved toward the room where the sound came from. I didn’t know where June was, and I began to feel concern for her safety.
At the bedroom door I expected to find my wife. Instead I found Myron, chained hands and feet to the four corner bedposts, with three obviously young teenage girls, one of them being Brittney, attending to him. The three girls alternately sucked on his stiff cock. There were pools of semen on two of the girls’ faces and heads, as well on Myron’s abdomen; so he must have taken one or more of Bill’s magic pills, and was on his second or perhaps third round of ejaculation. The man was disgusting in more ways than one, and I had to figure that his mesmeric bullshit was at work here, otherwise what would attract three pretty, early-teen girls to him, and his depravity? He didn’t see me, lost in his pedophilic bliss, nor did the girls see me, as they were hypnotically preoccupied. I left them and went in search of June and Cindy.
I searched the entire house and found no one else there. I stepped out the front door and surveyed the neighborhood. At this hour, all the houses except one were dark. Not Bill and Jan’s; it was lit up like a Christmas tree. That’s where I went.
As I approached, I heard sounds from the back yard and so I walked around the house to investigate. I found June handcuffed to a patio table, her petite backside draped over the edge. Her naked ass was getting whipped by Cindy and Jan with short, cat-o-nine-tail whips, with plenty of red, seeping welts already visible. June cried out, but it sounded orgasmic. Unsure yet determined to stop the whipping I charged toward the women, but was tackled from behind before I got there.
“She said you’d try to spoil the fun,” Bill snarled as he held me down. Bigger than me, he was able to sit on me to hold me in place. He was naked, and his erection was difficult to ignore. I squirmed but was unable to break free.
Eric and Inga came out of the house, naked as well, carrying more toys, and more fur-lined handcuffs. Eric too had a prodigious erection, obviously as with Bill, one that was chemically enhanced. They all had this dazed yet maniacal look on their faces. I knew I was in trouble.
June cried out again, and I yelled for them to stop the whipping.
Eric got down to look into my eyes, and said, “My wife told me how hot you were and what a nice ass you have. Well, Scott old boy, I’d love to find out.”
Inga chimed in, “Me too! Me too!” Among the sex toys in her hand was a strap-on dildo.
I couldn’t free my hands so I spit in Eric’s face. He simply laughed. He wasn’t going to sodomize me without a fight. The fight left me when Bill forced open my mouth and he and Eric forced me to swallow a pill. After a few minutes my mind grew hazy and the fight was lost.
Bill, Eric and Inga stripped me while Jan and Cindy uncuffed June from the table. They handcuffed me to the table in the same way they’d done to June. I heard Eric and Inga make childlike goo-goo noises before my anus was unceremoniously lubed up and penetrated.
Eric fucked me like the maniac he was. “Oh yes, I so wanted to do this. Oh God, yes!” he muttered as he pumped. It hurt like hell, but knowing he wasn’t wearing a condom hurt more.
Inga was in my face. She actually swung a tit in my face before saying, “Wheeee! Eric and I are soooooooooooooooooo bi! I told him you had a nice ass but he’d already been looking at it, tee-hee!”
Eric grunted, and by the sound of it he was cumming, though by this time my hurting ass was so numb I didn’t feel it. Inga whooped it up and then took her husband’s place behind me. More lube, and then a dildo assault. I didn’t think it could hurt more, but it did. I couldn’t help myself; I cried.
I was only peripherally aware—at the edge of my field of vision—Bill was sodomizing June while Cindy and Jan were feverishly working a two-headed dildo. June’s cries were unbearable, and no longer sounded orgasmic as she curled into a fetal ball while Bill fucked her in the ass. I fought against the handcuffs until I heard Inga giggle. That must have been the proverbial last straw, for I summoned an adrenaline surge and broke the cuffs completely from the table, taking out two of its legs in the process.
Like a charging bull, I swept Inga away and ran at Bill as he was thrusting into June’s poor rectum. I never was a violent man, but at that moment I was capable of killing him. Of course I didn’t kill him, but I did beat the shit out of my sodomizer, getting good use out of the handcuffs dangling from my wrists. Bloodied Bill fell to the ground, Jan screamed, and Inga, sitting on her bare ass, laughed as I retrieved the handcuff key from the ground near Bill (it must have been in his hand) and freed June before removing mine from my abraded wrists.
Jan ran at me, shouting, “Why did you do that?”
Any other time I would have laughed at this hysterical, naked woman charging me with a two-headed dildo hanging out of her cunt. Not this time. I decked her with one punch; one I pulled up short since she was a woman, after all. I dressed, daring with my stare for anyone else to try stopping me. I threw my shirt over June and carried her back to her house. She was out of it, delirious and unfocused. I was worried.
The one memory of what just occurred that will remain with me always was the vacuous gaze my wife gave me before I left. The woman I married, the one I thought loved me, looked at me as if I was an alien. Perhaps I was, alien to the lifestyle she longed for and repressed.
I carried June into her house and took her to the living room sofa. Laying her down, I went in search of a washcloth and hot water, trying to ignore the teenage screeches and screams still emanating from upstairs.
I washed her welted and sore body until her eyes fluttered and opened. “Scott? Is that you?” I acknowledged my presence and told her to relax and be still. She asked me where we were and when I told her that we were at her place, she grew agitated and tried to get up. I didn’t let her.
“You’re okay now. Nobody will hurt you now, ever,” I said.
“But…Myron…he…” she coughed, and I saw the internal battle she waged with herself to speak. “He…did…this…he did something…to me…and let Cindy and Bill take me…away.”
“Your husband hypnotized you?”
“Something…” She heard the girls and flinched. “He did it to Brittney and her friends, too. They’re so young…”
“Can you make the shower? We need to get cleaned up and out of this madhouse.”
She nodded, so I helped her to the shower. She didn’t seem to care about her nakedness or mine as I stripped and urged her under the shower’s hot spray. Having her tight little body so close got me hard, but I pushed all thoughts of sex out of my mind. I helped her dry and get dressed, thanking God above that she had clothes in a different room than the one Myron was using.
She packed a suitcase and then we went to my house and packed one for me. I took a look around at the house Cindy and I barely ‘broke in;’ so many plans, so many hopes and dreams, gone. I couldn’t wait to leave Passionville.
Before getting into my car, she made a cell phone call, and I didn’t ask who she was calling. We hit the road and didn’t look back.
I shut off the CD when “Bring Your Daughter to the Slaughter” started up. I couldn’t take it even though the song didn’t really parallel what happened in the Passionville neighborhood.
I looked over at the passenger seat to see that June was awake, smiling, and looking at me.
I smiled back. “You okay? Hurting?”
“Only on the inside,” she said. After miles of comfortable silence, she spoke again. “I fell for it. All of it. Myron and his ways. Did he ever want me? Was our marriage some game to him? Oh God, I’m such a fucking idiot!”
“You’re nothing of the sort,” I told her. “Myron’s a manipulator and you were a victim, but not anymore.”
She smiled again, and said, “Well, maybe we’ll see how good a manipulator he really is.”
“What does that mean?”
“I called the cops. Told them I was Jan. Told them my daughter was over a neighbor’s house and I suspected rape. I told them I went over to the house and heard screams from an upstairs room. I doubt if they’ll knock.”
“That was your call? Lady, that took guts.”
“I guess so. I had to make him pay somehow for what he did to me…to you…to those girls.”
We rode for miles, making plans as we went. We chose to leave our spouses, and our lives, to fate. We had no idea what the future held for us, but we were ready to find out.
I checked us in at a motel as husband and wife. June was tentative at first, and I chalked it up to her need to come to grips with the last twenty-four hours. I had no carnal intentions. I decided not to try. Instead, she made the first move, kissing me, telling me how special I was, how I was unlike any man she’d ever known. She went down on me, sucking me like there was no tomorrow. I hoped there was a tomorrow for both of us.
“Whoa, hold on or I’m gonna cum,” I groaned.
She looked at me, and smiling said, “Isn’t that the idea?”
“Yes, and I know where I’m gonna put it.” I popped her onto her back and entered her missionary. I pumped, she bumped. We were two sweaty, colliding bodies by the time we both climaxed. Exhausted, it took me about an hour to recover, and then she rode me, loud and wet, her ordeal and fears at least for the moment forgotten. Oh man, did I love to watch those firm little cupcakes jiggle and bounce!
Lying together in the dark before we fell asleep, we opened up about our marriages and what we were leaving behind. She confessed that her attraction to Myron wasn’t all due to his hypnotic talent. “He can be sweet,” she said, “and he did open me up to new sexual experiences, and I liked that…liked sex.”
I doubted she meant to the extremes she just experienced.
Dawn came quickly. I awoke to find June kneeling on the bed next to me. “You ready for more, Scott my new love?” In her hand were a rope and a pair of handcuffs.
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