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Archive name: fences.txt (MM, nc, 1st, v)
Authors name: Tess Zaire (tesszaire@yahoo.com)
Story title : Good Fences

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2001.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Good Fences (MM, nc, 1st)
by Tess Zaire (tesszaire@yahoo.com)

***

Deep in suburban gothic Barry and Dave reinvent diplomacy 
and address deed restrictions.




Rolling stones gather no moss.a bird in the hand.good 
fences make good neighbors. That's the one that's a lie. 
Good fences. I toss and I turn all night and all I can 
hear is good fences.

It was a long time before I thought of putting up a 
fence. When my daughter was young and all the kids in the 
neighborhood were young, fences did not exist. Out the 
kitchen window, in the waning hours of twilight, you 
could hear the whoops and yells of children as they ran 
from one yard to the next. They were followed by leaping 
dogs and the cries of "wait up" from the slower runners. 
Smells from backyard barbeques crept from one yard to the 
next. The backyards seemed to stretch endlessly from 
summer to summer and there were no fences and the shadow 
fell unbroken from house to house. Then Barry and Lynda 
moved next door.

They were a normal looking middle-aged couple. Lynda was 
pretty, not beautiful and Barry was a little loud. At 
block parties Lynda would quietly chat with the wives and 
ooh and ahh at the pictures passed around of children. 
Barry would stand with the men and argue. Sports. 
Politics. Religion. It didn't matter to Barry. He simply 
loved to argue and he was very good at it. On the few 
times that he was challenged he would grow darkly intense 
and his voice would lower and resonate with dark 
authority. His opponent would almost always concede or 
else would clumsily find an excuse to leave. Barry's face 
would find a shadow and a tight firm smile would cross 
his mouth. 

I don't remember where I was standing when I first saw 
the fence. I may have been leaning against the kitchen 
counter, absent-mindedly sipping my first cup of coffee. 
I may have been awakened by the pounding of a hammer and 
peered out the blinds on the bedroom window. It's not 
important. What was important was that it was the weekend 
and Barry was putting up a fence. I went out into the 
backyard. My stomach was knotted and I could see Barry's 
head bobbing up and down behind a panel of wood as 
another section of the fence raised up from the ground.

"What are you doing?" I cried out.

"What??" Barry snapped back. He looked irritated at the 
interruption.

"What are you doing?" I repeated. I was dumbfounded. 
Barry stopped, leaned against the partially erected 
fence, and eyed me curiously. He spoke to me slowly, as 
if I were a confused senior citizen.

"Well Dave." he drawled out, "what would your guess be?"

"But.but.but it's a fence!" I began.

"Damn you're bright Dave," Barry answered, smirking at my 
confusion.

We began to argue. I told Barry about the children. About 
the playing and running. About the open space. Barry 
listened for a minute and then began to look angry. He 
stepped closer to me. I raised my finger to make a point 
and when I did, Barry grabbed it and surrounded it with 
his fist and slowly began to twist it. I dropped my 
coffee cup first. Then my knees began to buckle as a 
searing pain rose like daylight in my finger and spread 
to my arm. Slower than the coffee cup, I collapsed to the 
ground. Barry's face leaned into my space. "Don't you 
ever argue with me, you little whimp," he hissed at me.

"Barry! That hurts." I began. His free hand came up out 
of nowhere and slapped the side of my face. 

"Jesus!" I cried out. Barry slapped me again.

"Shut up!" he demanded. I did. "Now Davey." he began, 
"I'm going to let go of your finger and when I do, I want 
you to crawl across my yard and go to the patio door. Do 
you understand?" 

My heart was pounding and my finger was nothing but 
white-hot pain. I nodded my head. Barry let go of my 
finger. I hesitated, trying to catch my breath. Barry 
yanked the hair on the back of my head. "I told you to 
crawl Davey!" he barked. I began to crawl.

How to we choose who to obey and who to stand up to? Is 
it their size? The tone of their voice? The look on their 
face? My face still stung from where Barry had slapped it 
and I think I was scared. I crawled to his patio without 
caring who saw me or what anyone might think. When I got 
to the door I stopped. Barry stepped to the side of me 
and slid the glass door open. "Get in there" he snapped 
and he emphasized it with a kick to my ass. Lynda was 
sitting in her robe at the breakfast nook reading the 
paper and drinking coffee. She looked at us and her eyes 
grew cartoon wide. 

"Barry?" she floated the question out before us. He gave 
her one quick look and raised his arm; in almost slow 
motion and held one finger pressed against his lips. 

"Shhhhhhhh," he told her, "not one word from you." Lynda 
pressed her lips tightly together and our frightened eyes 
met and locked for an instant and then Barry kicked me 
again. "Get over in front of that couch," he snarled to 
me.

I crawled over and stopped in front of the couch. Barry 
plopped down on the couch facing me. "You comfortable 
there neighbor?" he asked me, his voice dripping with 
sarcasm. "Wimps usually are comfortable on their hands 
and knees. Mouthy wimps like you tend to forget this from 
time to time.its up to your betters to remind you. 
Wouldn't you say it was neighborly of me to remind you 
Davey?" I was having a hard time breathing. "I asked you 
a question Davey!" Barry snapped.

"Yssssss." I heard myself squeak.

"Yes what?" Dave demanded.

"Yes it is neighborly of you," I told him. I prayed that 
this would be the end of it. That Barry would accept his 
victory and send me home.

"I don't think I believe you Davey," Barry said, standing 
up off the couch. "I don't think you understand the whole 
concept here neighbor."

Barry unbuttoned his shorts and slid them and his boxers 
down his legs. I heard Lynda gasp from the doorway where 
she stood watching. My mind raced in fifteen different 
directions. None of them were good. Oh God Oh God Oh God. 
It was clanging in my brain. I could feel myself starting 
to sweat. Barry turned around slowly and knelt on the 
couch. Lynda made some low noise in her throat. Oh God Oh 
God.

"Dave," he said in a quiet voice. I kept trying to 
breathe. "Dave," he repeated. "I want you to look at my 
ass Dave."

I couldn't. I didn't want to. I wanted to be back in my 
kitchen. I wanted to live somewhere else. I wanted fences 
everywhere. 

"Look at it now Dave," he sternly directed me, with a 
hint of violence peeking from behind his sentence. I 
lifted my head and looked at Barry's ass. I felt tears 
began to gather in the corner of my eyes. 

"How are you going to prove to me that you understand me 
Davey?" Barry asked slowly.

"I don't know." I choked out.

"Yes you Dave," Barry answered. "How will you show your 
respect to my ass?"

It seemed quiet forever. My knees ached. My mind was 
tired from thinking. There was only the sound of the 
house and Lynda's slow heavy breathing to break the 
quiet. Finally I heard myself speak. It wasn't me. It was 
me.

"Kiss it?" I asked.

"That's right Davey," was all Barry answered. I gulped. I 
wiped away one fat errant tear that had crossed half my 
face. I leaned forward and I did what Barry told me. I 
pressed my lips against his ass and I kissed it. I kissed 
it again. I was shaking now but in the oddest of ways, I 
felt a sense of relief. Barry reached back with his hands 
and pulled apart his cheeks.

I didn't even hesitate. I pressed my lips firmly against 
his asshole and kissed it. Again and again and again. I 
had to please Barry. I had to show him that I understood. 
I made my tongue as hard as I could and I shoved it deep 
inside Barry's asshole. I worked it in and out, stopping 
only to plant loud kisses on it. I understand. I 
understand.

Finally Barry pulled away and turned around to face me. 
In the corner of my eye I could see Lynda. She was 
leaning against the wall and one hand had stole inside 
her robe and moved up and down over her mound. Barry's 
cock was erect. It looked big and thick and purplish. 
"Open your mouth and stick out your tongue neighbor," he 
told me. I did.

And he slowly jacked himself off, his big hand moving up 
and down the shaft of his cock. He stiffened and then the 
hole opened and the first hot stream of his sperm shot 
directly onto my tongue. The second hit my forehead. The 
third and fourth clung to my hair. I tasted the saltiness 
of it and everything made perfect sense.

 
Tess Zaire

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 15