Jennifer Collier: Some Very Lovable Neighbors

He continued to stroke her shoulder, letting his hand slide slowly and lightly down along the length of her arm, knowing that the motion was having an electric effect on her. She had stopped crying now, although her face was still buried against his chest, and her hands still clutched his shirt, and he sensed rather than heard a quickening of her breath under his caress. He brought his hand up, sliding it along her back now, down, down almost to the curve of her buttocks, bringing it up to tease along the ridge of her spine. And all the while he was whispering words into her hair, words becoming bolder and bolder:

"Don't think about them Adie, the two of them making love… no, fucking, Adie, that's what they were doing, honey, they were fucking orally, but you mustn't think about your husband's hard penis in Sue's mouth, and you mustn't think about Jack kissing and licking between my wife's legs. You mustn't think about any of that, honey…"

She was breathing faster now, all right, he could hear it and feel the heat of her breath through the shirt. Well, if there was ever any time to throw caution to the wind, it was now. Right now!

Mason brought his hand up to her shoulder again, and then casually, lightly, he put it on the swelling mound of her breast and began to rub the pliant globe tenderly through the encasing jersey and bra. He heard the sharp intake of Adie's breath, felt the sudden stiffening of her body and the convulsive kneading of his shirt in her hands. But she made no effort to pull away, and he grinned widely, evilly, knowing that he had won, that she was his irrevocably now. He kept caressing her breast, running his thumb across the hardened nipple, his heart pounding in his chest and his cock leaping like a wild thing seeking escape from the cumbersome cage that was his shorts and trousers…

A warning voice in Adie's mind tried to penetrate the lethargic state Mason's words had evoked, tried to tell her that something was going to happen if she didn't put an end to it right now. And yet, somehow, his hand on her breast didn't seem wrong to her, not really, it felt so good, like the hand of her father stroking her sweating body when she had been down with a high fever as a child, telling her to leave everything to him and it would be all right. And Bob's voice, speaking against her hair, saying now: "We have to do something, baby, we owe it to ourselves. Turnabout is fair play, sweetheart, and it can be good that way, very good… You want to hurt him, don't you? You want to hurt him for what he's done, don't you? I want to hurt Sue for what she's done; she deserves to be hurt and Jack deserves to be hurt, honey …"

Turnabout is fair play… Jack deserves to be hurt… The words spun and tumbled in Adie's confused mind as Bob Mason stroked her breast and held her close to him. Yes, he was right. Jack did deserve to be hurt, and the only way to hurt him was with her body… But did she dare do what she knew this situation would lead to if she continued to remain passive? Did she dare to be, herself, as unfaithful as Jack had been?

Well, why not? Why not, indeed? Jack had been the one to despoil the sacrosanct vows of marriage, hadn't he? Yes, damn it, she dared to do it, all right; she was just hurt enough, just angry enough, just drunk enough, and… yes, just aroused enough… that she would do it…

Mason's hand had dipped under her sweater now, was trailing hot tremulous paths along the bare skin of her flat stomach, moving higher to touch the tightly encased orbs of her breasts, cupping first one and then the other. Adie's hips began to squirm against the softness of the cushions, and she turned her body slightly more toward him, pressing herself to him. And then her head lifted, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her lips parting wetly; it was as if she were a puppet and the puppeteer had activated the string controlling her head, raising it up for the innocent kiss of a boy puppet – except that Bob Mason was not a puppet and not a boy and the kiss would surely not be innocent…

It wasn't.

He ground his lips onto hers, completely engulfing her mouth with his warm moist one, flicking his tongue forward immediately to slip past her teeth and into her mouth, to meet and entwine with hers. Pinwheels of light flashed in back of Adie's eyes at the sheer physical impact of his kiss, and her hand lifted from his shirt front to encircle his neck, press his head tightly, molding their mouths together like molten metals fusing into one. His hand was pushing her bra up now, insinuating itself beneath, touching the hot flesh of her naked breast now, touching the hard bud of her nipple, pinching it painfully between his thumb and forefinger. His tongue sawed mercilessly in and out of her mouth in the attitude of copulation, and she made tiny excited mewling sounds of pleasure deep in her throat.

And then Mason's hand left her breast, moved down along her stomach, seeming to sear her skin there, and then around to the waistband of her stretch pants. Quickly, then deftly and without hesitation, he unbuttoned the single button at the side, located the zipper and drew it down; his fingers went to the band of her panties, swiftly moved inside, pushing the flimsy material down, his fingertips touching the hot flesh of her abdomen and then the first curling strands of her soft downy fleece. But he didn't pause there; he let his hand slide still lower, his middle finger extended until the digit came into sudden contact with the warm damp furrow of her cunt. Adie's body jackknifed against him with the electric contact of his touch on her naked defenseless crotch; her whole being commenced to oscillate violently, and she began to moan in wild staccato cadence. From somewhere far, far back in her mind, the warning voice began to speak again: No, this is wrong, this is all wrong. I'm not some whore to be used; I'm not merely, a receptacle for a strange man's semen… I still love Jack no matter what he's done I still love him… no, no, no, this is all wrong… stop it, stop it now, before it's too late… you have to stop it, stop it, stop it!

But she didn't stop it. She couldn't stop it. She was incapable of pulling away from him, she liked his touch on her genitals, yes she liked it! She liked his tongue in her mouth, liked his touch. Oh God!

She couldn't stop it now at all, it was too late, too late…

Mason dipped his middle finger into the wet trembling passage of Adie's burning cunt, teasing the hardened button of her clitoris, playing with it, reveling in the feel of her nubile pussy and the vibrating arousal of her firm young body. Christ! he thought, she really turns on, just like I knew she would. She wants cock all right, she's fired up for cock, and when a woman gets that way nothing else matters; nothing else at all.

"Baby," he whispered in his soft voice, taking his mouth from hers briefly, "baby, I want you, I want to fuck you, I need to fuck you baby …"

She stiffened momentarily at his use of the obscene word, but he knew that his voice, his finger playing maddeningly with her vaginal opening, would overcome her hesitations… she was too far gone now for anything else to happen.

And then in a voice that was strange, detached, she breathed out her answer to him; breathed out words which caused Mason's prick to throb intensely in his pants and dribble excited seminal emissions from its swollen glans, words which were at once distinctly alien and impossibly exciting on her lips and in her ears, words brought about by many things not the least of which was a strange awakening of sexual desire wrought intrinsically by her own husband's perverted actions of the afternoon.

She said, "Oh yes, Bob darling, and I want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me, I need you to fuck me just as much as you need it. Fuck me, Bob! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…"