Peter Jenkins - The reluctant neighbor

"So," Hans laughed, "I heard a scream this morning, from Marily. I think I know why. Ya! You have discovered your husband, right?" He spoke directly to her, but smiled in Fred's direction.

Marily blushed, ashamed that she had caused such a scene, and nodded her head. Fred surprised her by laughing, then said, "I almost screamed myself, Hans. I might have if she had not. We were both shocked."

"That is good," he told them solemnly. "You make me think of myself and my wife. You are just like us, I think."

Now Fred blushed, thinking of his fucking of Anna, how delightful had been his discovery of her or her of him or both of them of each other. He could find nothing to say to Hans, even though he wanted to put into words his appreciation of him and of Anna. Hans expected no less, so he continued, seeing the need to put both of them at ease.

"Let me tell you, both of you, but mostly for Fred. Please. I left East Germany when I was sixteen – a teen-ager as you Americans say. I was a small boy when the war was over, when the Russians came into my village. They were animals, every one of them, all the officers, all the men. They destroyed everything that stood in their way. They were like children. If they do not get their way in all things, they become violent. The day they arrived, we were all afraid of them, I can still hear my mother saying to me, 'Hans I must hide you. God only knows what they will do to the children.'"

"There had been many stories. Many. I thought that the Russians would eat the children. I think that perhaps my mother thought so, too. So, she did hide me. In the basement. I remember that I was so fearful of the dark, very much afraid. I think I may have cried myself to sleep. I do not remember. I do remember one night hearing my mother scream, amidst the noise of shouts that I did not understand and door slamming and rifle butts against the walls of the house. Then, my mother she screamed again, loudly, making a sound that I did not know any woman or man could make."

"I crawled up from the basement, from my hiding place, and looked through the door. I saw my mother being raped, I did not know at the time that that was what was happening to her, but it was. They had her on the table in the kitchen, and one big man was raping her, others were holding her and there was a line of men behind her, all dirty and big and they all had rifles and guns and ammunition all over them. My mother she could not cry out. One was at her face filling her mouth with his large pole, another was shoving himself cruelly into her vagina. I watched it all, hating every one of them, wanting to kill them. I did not know what they were doing to her, never had I imagined such a thing could happen to a person. Each of them took their pleasure with her. They were about twenty of them, then they left. I went to my mother and she looked at me with sad, sad eyes."

"I cried. She did not. She got up from the table, went to her bedroom and I remember hearing her in the bathroom, then she came back to me. She took me on her lap and said that she did not know how to tell me but she must. 'I have been raped, Hans. You will understand the word one day. All men do. All men are prone to do this.' I remember that she cried, and she pushed me away from her. I remember that. I can see the whole thing now by closing my eyes."

"But, from that day on I always thought of myself in connection with the Russian rapists. Always. When I was thirteen and I had the first desire of sex, I turned it off. I did not want to be like the Russians. I did not want to hurt any woman as I had seen them do my mother."

"Then we escaped to the West. My mother and me. I never knew, never saw my father to my memory. He did not come back from the war. There life was more easy, there were automobiles, there was a school for me, and there were girls I could have had. But I could not. I wanted to, but always there was the picture in my mind of my mother and the Russians. I did not want to hurt a girl, a woman. Then, I met Anna, four years ago. I was a virgin. Ya! Still. I loved her when I first saw her. I married her. But we were not happy. I could not tell her why we could not have what she would consider normal sex relations. But she told me. She showed me by introducing me to this club. I tell you this because I think your story is similar to mine. I think it is always a mother who puts the blocks to happiness in a boy's mind. They do."

Hans looked closely at Fred, knew that he had hit close to home. He wanted both Fred and Marily to know that he liked them, that he wanted to help them to appreciate the better things of life. He wanted them to accept each other, to be happy with their chosen partners. And, he was astute enough to realize that it was Fred who had put the blocks in the way of their happiness.

Fred hesitated, then smiled at Hans, forcing it at first, then meaning it sincerely. "You're right, Hans. I think, too that mothers put the block there. But I don't think that your mother wanted to. I mean she had no choice about being raped by the Russians."

"True, but she did not have to say that I was a male like them, even so. She could have chosen other words and saved me years of suffering. Right?" He asked passionately.

"No. I would never have forgiven her," Anna said, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. "Every woman wants to make her man over and I had the chance. I would never have forgiven you if you had been different."

They all laughed with her. Fred smiled his silent thanks to Hans for the telling of the story that must have been painful for him, because he realized that he did it to show him, Fred, that his hang-up over his mother was not unusual.

Both Fred and Marily enjoyed the remainder of the party. Each of them had been reluctant to let the other go, to permit him to take another partner with the new drawing at lunch time, but they did. Marily was paired off with a man she had not noticed before, an older man, who was the medical doctor for the whole group.

Fred won Vivian. Even though he was not delighted with the prospect of her, she was with him. She talked, compared him to all the other men in the room, pointed out to anyone who might be listening all his virtues, his handsomeness, his frank and beautiful eyes, his tallness, his slimness of hip and verbalized her own desire to have those same hips grinding against hers.

Fred was embarrassed at first, then realized that no one was listening to her. She talked on and on, holding his hand, then releasing it and putting a drink in it and then holding it again, never stopping, never expecting an answer. Fred blushed deeply with one thought: that the only way to stop her talking was to fill her mouth with his prick. The idea jolted him. He had truly never had such a thought in his life and so he sat red-faced, looking at her moving lips.

Vivian knew what he was thinking. She liked the idea that it should make him blush. She talked on, but she pulled him off the couch and took him up the stairs to the bedroom. Once the door was closed, she stopped talking long enough to give him a hot burning kiss on the mouth, grinding her pelvis against his, then continuing with her monologue, "Age is not always a drawback, we learn so much as we grow older," she unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his chest then to his back and said, "If what I think you were thinking is correct, you were right in your assumption and I want you to prove it to yourself." She kissed him again, taking his tongue into her mouth and her hands fumbled with his belt and then his zipper and his pants fell around his ankles, and she took her mouth from his, "And I've wanted you ever since the day you moved into the house across the hedge from me and help me take this off," she moved his hand to her bra strap and he unsnapped it and was surprised that she had such full, firm breasts, then laughed at the thought that her lungs would have to be bigger than anyone's, and she moved his hands to her skirt and that was gone and she led him to the bed.