Peter Jenkins - The reluctant neighbor

Marily was introduced to one medical doctor and his wife; another lawyer and his wife, a couple of business men and their wives, people in all walks of life, the professional ones, the smart and well-dressed and intelligent and moneyed people. She began to relax, feeling that she was getting a firm foot inside the society of her neighborhood, that Fred would be proud of her and delighted with the party when she told him about it. She had had her glass refilled several times and began to feel a little light headed by the time Vivian descended the stairs, her voice floating above the crowd in the room, in a steady stream, all the way to the bottom of the stairwell. There, she began to kiss on the lips, every man and woman in the room. Marily was simply shocked. She finished her fifth drink and watched the hostess. It suddenly occurring to her that Vivian had a good five years on Peter. That thought sent her in search of another drink as through her alcoholic haze she could hear the older woman's voice resounding monotonously through the room.

"All names are in the hat if everyone is here by now and looking around I'm sure they are but we are going to stick to our normal policy and the host is Peter and he's to be with the new member and all of you know how Hans and Peter are inseparable and," she continued, not bothered at all by the jovial laugh and comments from the rest of the guests, "So they will see to that end of the affair if the rest of us will just draw and the numbers are of course as we discussed last meeting so the ten evens will be with the ten odds and the twenty evens with the twenty odds and those with the decimal will of course be more than two, especially for Ben who insisted on two women…"

Marily heard only part of what she said, having returned from the kitchen with a full glass and she didn't even listen to the part. She couldn't believe that a woman or a man for that matter, could ever talk as much and say so little as Vivian did. She looked for Peter and saw him coming toward her and smiled her bravest smile.

Peter dropped onto the arm of her chair, put his hand over her shoulder, then bent and kissed her on the mouth. Marily was shocked, or surprised, but the bluntness of her mind snapping was lessened by the alcohol. Peter spoke to her, softly, saying "Let's find Hans and go over to your house."

"Hans?" She questioned.

"Yes. Come on," he said forcefully as though she had no choice and pulled her up from her seat, put his arm around her waist, and they set off through the kitchen. There Hans was engaged with a woman not his wife, a beautiful blonde, his arm around her, talking in his continental way. Peter laughed and said, "Grab a bottle and come along." He then guided Marily through the door, across the patio, and to her own yard.

"Peter," she pleaded, holding back so that he was almost dragging her, "What is this? Why did you ask Hans to come? I don't understand."

"I'll explain it to you, Marily. Don't you trust me? Don't you like Hans? He's wild. We work well together, don't we?" He spoke to Hans who had joined them and was walking on the opposite side of Marily.

"Well… I… I don't know, Peter," she started, but he closed her mouth with his own, caught both of her soft breasts of white flesh in his hands and pulled her to him. He kissed her long and hard, rubbed himself against her, put his tongue in her mouth and bit her lips. He released her and they continued on into the house.

She stopped just inside, her mind a turmoil of jumbled thoughts, mixed with her own desires that almost were overpowering her, and looked at the cupboard where the glasses were kept. Hans followed her gaze with his own, said, "Permit me," and opened the cupboard and set three glasses on the counter, then filled them to the brim with liquor. He raised his glass, after putting one in each of their hands, "To a good time by all," he smiled. Marily drank, the fiery liquid burning her throat and tried to smile.

When she looked around to smile at Peter he was no longer there. The thought occurred to her that he had probably stepped into the bathroom. She was surprised to find herself in Hans' arms, his mouth pressed to hers. She tried to move away, but he held her firmly, and kissed her deliciously, causing her body to tingle and taunt her. She felt his hands glide familiarly down her back, so she pushed him angrily away, then leaned back against the counter and put her hand to her forehead. She couldn't understand what was wrong with her, how she could be making love to one man – or at least letting him kiss her – while another that she had cheated with, had been unfaithful to her husband with, was alone with them in her own house. She shook her head to clear it, felt familiar arms encircling her. She lifted her face, tears streaming down it, to Peter.

Peter took her gently in his arms, put her head on his shoulder, rubbed his hand over her back, and talked to her, "It'll be all right, Marily, it will. You'll see. I didn't mean to frighten you, you're beautiful, such lovely hair and eyes and figure. Come," he told her, moving her toward the bedroom. Marily realized with a jolt that Peter was nude. He hadn't been in the bathroom, then, but in the bedroom undressing! She started to resist, to complain, then decided not to, to let herself be taken by him, to be loved and wanted. She stopped short just inside the bedroom door and her eyes widened in surprise.

The furniture had been arranged as Peter had placed it the last time he was there except that Fred's bed had been pulled next to hers. And, the shock of shocks, Hans was sitting on the now double bed, naked, drinking and smiling at her. She couldn't believe it. Nor could she resist looking at him, the hugeness of him, the beauty of his face, his slightly crooked smile and his lock of blond hair hanging over his forehead.

She felt dizzy, almost faint, from the liquor she had consumed, the craziness of the party that had been unlike any party she had even attended. The whole thing seemed like a weird but pleasant nightmare to her.

Peter took her solidly in his arms again, unzipped her dress down the back, put his hand inside the dress and over her softness, then down to her soft white buttocks, and pulled her to him and kissed her long and hard. She couldn't resist. Her body slumped against his; she felt the fullness of his sex against her. She moaned softly when he squeezed her buttocks. Peter slipped her dress off her shoulders, his mouth on hers all the time, his tongue probing deep within her. He moved her arms from around his neck and moved her slip straps over her shoulders, letting that slide to the floor on top of her dress. Then he unsnapped her bra, then kissed her breasts as he slowly removed it.

Marily had forgotten about Hans. She glanced at the bed, saw him sitting there as she had first seen him. She gave a start and tried to cover her breasts with her arm. Peter would have none of that. He took her arm and gently moved it from her breasts, then said with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Look at this, Hans. Beautiful, aren't they?"

Hans ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes sparkled and he replied, "They are that, Marily," giving a musical tone to her name. She noticed his rampant hardness being stroked lovingly between his own fingers and suddenly felt like a helpless maiden being offered up for sacrifice to these two virile naked men. And then, before she could react, before any thought could be formed in her mind, Peter had rid her of her panties and her shoes. She stood stark naked before the two nude men. Peter gently laid her on the bed, between himself and Hans, and turned sideways and put his mouth over hers.

Marily couldn't believe that such a thing was happening to her. She tried to be rational, tried to get her thoughts sorted out to figure out just what kind of compromise she had let herself in for. It was impossible. She felt hopelessly entrapped by her feelings for Peter, and he was there and he was kissing her and she was enjoying it. She didn't think at all about Hans, had forgotten that he was there, in bed with her and Peter, until she suddenly felt a strange set of lips on her breasts. She jumped, and Hans withdrew his mouth from her, then she was encouraged by Peter, murmuring into her ear, "Marily, trust me. Please," then moving his mouth back to hers. Again she felt the warm wetness of Hans' mouth on her breasts, the heat and strength of Peter's tongue in her own mouth, and groaned out her helplessness to resist their magic torment, or tried to. She put one hand on Peter's head, on the back of it, and rubbed. She could feel her breasts responding to the expert kissing by Hans. Feeling rushed there, she could tell that her nipples were beginning to harden, and her other hand went to the back of his head. Fire suddenly shot through her, from her mouth to her breasts to her loins and she pressed her thighs tightly together to try and quench the rising feeling of desire there between her legs.