Peter Jenkins - The reluctant neighbor

"No, you don't have to bother. I'm not really hungry, actually. I get tired of drinking lunch and so once in awhile I come home and eat." He smiled, revealing the most perfect white teeth she had seen in a long time.

"I'm afraid I can't offer you a drink. My husband, Fred, doesn't drink… so we don't keep it in the house." Marily finished lamely.

"I don't want a drink, thanks, but don't apologize. Somehow I knew that your husband didn't drink." His tone of voice had changed, a smugness creeping in that angered Marily.

"And how did you know that?" She had asked, not kindly.

"He looks too healthy, actually. He has that glowing, youthful flesh that one associates with non-drinkers." He laughed easily.

Marily had relaxed, had suddenly began to enjoy talking to him. She had had to admit to herself that he was a very handsome man, well-built and he seemed so sure of himself. And it was a pleasant break in her otherwise dull day.

"You don't have children?" He wanted to know. Marily felt that he probably knew the answer to that one, too. She had felt the impulse to tell him that Fred didn't want children now, maybe in a year or so, after he had fully adjusted to his marriage to her and his new job. But she didn't. She had merely said, "No. Not yet. We've only been married two years and… no. We don't have children."

"Habit is hard to break, I guess. I seem to be terribly thirsty. For water," he smiled, standing. Marily had not wanted him to leave. She had felt that he had no intention of it anyway, but he did stand and somehow gave the impression that he would… or that… what? She asked herself. It didn't matter.

It was then that she realized that the pain was lessening, that her vagina was still throbbing, but the pain had gone somewhat and the more pleasurable sensation she had known a few moments before was slowly returning. She straightened her legs, pressed them together and then continued to think over the day.

"I have water. Come in and I'll make you a sandwich and a glass of tea. One must eat, you know, to keep a healthy, youthful complexion like Fred." She had laughed at her own joke and preceded him into the house.

Once inside the door she had remembered how she must look and for some strange reason she wanted to look better for this almost complete stranger. She asked him to sit, then excused herself and had gone through the bedroom, to the bathroom, and run a comb through her hair, deftly washed her face, straightened her blouse and returned to the kitchen.

It was then that the whole sordid… sordid? Well, whatever kind of nightmare it had been, had begun.

Peter had stood up when she entered the kitchen, had moved toward her without a word and had taken her in his arms. Why had she been so willing? she wondered. Had she expected him to do that? Thinking back, she rationalized that she had not had one thought about it, one way or the other. It had simply happened and she had not objected, but she had not responded either… unless… the fact she had not screamed out and fought with all her strength against his lewd advances, could be considered a response.

She could feel his arms about her, much more powerful than those of Fred, much more sure of what he was doing and more knowledgeable about how to go about it. He had kissed her gently, his lips on hers, then his tongue had played about her lips, then over them and into her mouth. She had tried to push him away, but he had a firm hold on her. She relaxed, took his tongue in her mouth and felt a delicious sensation that Fred had never given her reverberating up and down her spine. Then her anger had spilled over, whether at her sudden submission to his probing tongue or at him she didn't know, and she had tried to push him away.

"Relax, baby. I know that husband of yours isn't enough for a little minx like you," he had whispered, directly into her ear, then slipped his mouth wetly down to her neck.

She had tried to break his hold on her, had not wanted to hear anything against Fred from this near stranger. She could not! But, he had lifted her as though she had no weight at all, and carried her into the bedroom. Why hadn't she cried out? she wondered, the answer to her question immediately there: who would have heard her? No one! She had fought him with her fists, but it was no use. He had been too strong! Yes, that was it! That was the excuse she had been searching for: he was too strong!

He had placed her on the bed and then himself on top of her, had found her mouth with his before her full weight had sunk down into the mattress. He had almost suffocated her, his large tongue in her mouth, probing, his teeth biting and hurting her lips. "No!" she had cried out to the void, the space of the bedroom. "Please. No!" But it had been useless. He had managed to undress her and himself almost without her knowledge. Suddenly she had been stripped naked and was lying on the bed by herself, and he was up, throwing his clothes desperately over the chair. She had tried to escape, to get off the bed, but he had leaped onto it, pinning her under him. He had put her arms over her head, had fought with his head to turn hers and put his mouth onto her again, then he had himself slightly, and twisting and turning his stomach, had touched her sensitive flesh with his hardness, which had felt like steel – hot metal – laying on her stomach. He had continued to kiss her, to bite her lips, then had removed his mouth from hers, and began to suck her breasts. She had struggled, but to no avail.

The hopelessness of her situation had overwhelmed her. There was no one to call to, no instrument at her command that she could use to protect herself with. She tried to get her arms free of his, hoping to scratch and tear his arrogant face, but he held her firmly, arms up over her head and teased her ripe, full breasts, stopping only long enough to say, "God-damned, what a pair you have!" then his mouth had become busy again, biting into her flesh, then sucking her nipples into hardness then back to her mouth. She couldn't remember when the excitement had hit her, but laying now with the residing sensation in her vagina, she was sure it had been later even if the sensation of him kissing her had almost been pleasant, once she had adjusted her mind to the fact that it was really happening to her.

When his mouth had not covered hers she had pleaded, had implored him to stop. But her every word seemed only to spur him on. He had forced her legs apart with his muscular thighs and then shoved the head of his hardness into the softness between her open, defenseless legs, causing her to scream. He had immediately covered his mouth with hers, filled it with his tongue, then ground his hardened penis slowly into her resisting vagina. She felt as though he were killing her, as though he were pushing all the way through the center of her and impaling her with a spear to the mattress beneath her buttocks. Never had her own husband hurt that much, even on the night of their wedding, or any other night. But, then, never had she felt her husband so hard or excited by the feel of her body.

Peter had thrust himself inside her, all of him, splitting her and hurting her because she hadn't really been ready at that moment. The pain seared her insides and seemed to work outward to the top layer of her soft sensitive skin. She moaned, tried to move her hips back to rid herself of him, but it was hopeless. He shoved on into her, ground himself against her, against her words of pleading until suddenly she had felt the soft sacs of his testicles pressing hard against the sensitive hole of her anus.

Almost in a flash the pain had turned to pleasure for Marily. She had felt the hardness and roughness of him with every cell in her vagina, then there it was, the feeling that she had never had before, the desire that had never been opened up inside her, began begging for fulfillment. She knew now that he had sensed that, that where only a moment before she had been crying with pain, her legs had suddenly responded with a will of their own and had snaked desperately around his back, the small of it, and that they were pressing him into her. He released her hands and even though she had wanted to claw at his face only a few minutes before, she now wanted to, and did, use her hands behind his head to press it down onto her mouth and her neck…