by J K Chubbs
“Jessica, I can’t even think straight and all the blood in my head has made its way down to below my waist.” I was having trouble keeping my thoughts together and his pace had quickened. He must have remembered that I wasn’t the only one in the room. It showed amazing fortitude for him to pull free of my iron grip.
“Oh, my god…fuck me… do it until I can’t walk the same way.” She was pushing herself up against him and I purposely got down on my feet almost collapsing underneath my own weight. I bent over in front of him and gave him a target to spear with his love lance.
“This is my favorite position and there’s only one way to find out if it’s yours.” I was so close and it wasn’t going to take much to send me over the edge. I was hanging by a thread and he was looking at me while at the same time plugging her solid.
“Don’t you fucking even think about it.” It was too late and he was already moving in behind me. He made a growl of an animal and then my feet literally came off the floor. I felt his hand on the small of my back holding me in place.
“I still can’t get over the way that you fill me up.” It felt wrong to corrupt his young mind, but I was too far gone to give a damn.
“I know that you’re doing that on purpose.” I was using those muscles to give him a unique massage. I was squeezing the daylights out of him rhythmically to excite every inch of his member.
What I was doing was having a profound side effect which made my body short circuit in pleasure. The electrical charges striking in pulses along my limbs were making him feel the same thing.
“I can’t stop it and I don’t want to.” Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that my best friend and I would be seducing the youth of America.
His seed was about to erupt and I grabbed hold of him at the moment it was going to happen. Jessica was not about to be left out and we both milked him dry. The ferocity coming from his loins fired point blank at my clit covering it in his creamy goodness.
Jessica took matters into her own hands or in this case in her mouth. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth and went after what he had deposited. The heat of his discharge in combination with her tongue flickering along my flesh was enough to send me spiraling into a second and more explosive moment of truth.
He had fallen to his knees like he was giving praise to Jesus. No words were spoken. He left soon after leaving us to laugh like idiots.
We still couldn’t believe it really happened. I was tempted to pinch myself, but the evidence of our union was the puffy pink lips of a well-fucked hole.
We convinced him to move in with us into the very house that I had shared with my husband. We had a custom made bed made for the three of us. We even found time to express our feelings in the office, but that’s another story to be told at another time.
Story Twenty
Hank Irons settled in to watch the game. The couch was cheap and stuffing was coming out of one arm onto the fine hardwood floors. Hank had no good excuse to still have the couch. It was one that he had bought with his first paycheck after getting married years ago. He could afford better now even with the alimony, but he had won the couch in the divorce. It had gotten ugly and expensive, so Hank remembered every piece he had taken off his wife in the settlement. The couch was one. The Elvis tapestry on one wall of the living room was the other. It might be time for both to go, but they were trophies of a hard fought victory. He was keeping them. It would be like tossing out mounted deer heads that a man had hunted up himself. His ex-wife had taken those, so he was keeping the ratty couch and bigger than life velvet Elvis out in full view.
It was old, fat, sweaty Elvis from the Vegas years too. Hank felt a kinship to this latter day Elvis. Hank was forty, but he was fit and cut. He worked hard and he played hard. He looked good enough to bring home some young, hot trophies from the clubs most weekends too.
This weekend was pizza, wings, beer, and football. He hadn’t gone out or brought anyone home. It was a private party for him, Vegas Elvis, and old couch. Hank tipped an open beer up toward Elvis’s open, velvet mouth.
Hank smiled. “No, you’re the king.”
Hank took a deep swallow. This was a passing out on the couch kind of afternoon and he intended to pour enough beer down to see that plan along.
They even captured the blue drops of fat Elvis’s flying sweat in crushed velvet. It was a gaudy thing of beauty and it was all his.
They were still on the pre-game jabber with old athletes playing experts telling who had the advantage in the game. Hank shook his head. He knew a man had to work, but there was something sad about watching old heroes comment on a game they couldn’t play any longer. Every guy on the screen in a tacky jacket was in his fat Elvis stage of his career.
Hank smiled and lifted his half empty beer at the wide screen. “No, you’re the fat, sweaty Elvis.”
The television was really way too big for the room. He had to have special struts mounted on the wall and connected floor to ceiling to hold up the TV. It covered one whole wall. Hank had the couch pushed back all the way to the divider counter and he was still too close. He told himself that he liked to be able to reach over his head to grab food, but the truth was that he had installed a damn movie screen in his living room just to prove that he could. If he watched TV with the lights out, he’d probably damage his eyes and the neighbors would come to the window to investigate the strange light.
Hank’s house was on the corner, so the neighbor’s house was at an odd angle to his. He could see from the living room down into their backyard, side-yard, and driveway. The house had been vacant for a while, but Phil up the street had said a couple was moving in.
Phil’s exact words were, “The guy is kind of dumpy, but the girl is marriage ending hot.”
Unfortunately, Hank knew exactly what Phil meant. It was marriage ending hot young girls that had done the trick for Hank’s divorce too.
He heard a motorcycle roar through the neighborhood with a Doppler Effect that he could feel through the walls of the house. Hank smiled. He had his gigantic TV while Phil had gotten a Harley. If the man ended up divorced, it would probably be about the bike before the girls.
Hank heard a metal on metal screech outside. It sounded like bad brakes. There was a pump and another screech.
Hank stood and moved to the living room window. He saw the reverse lights of a box truck pulling into the neighbor’s driveway. Hank frowned. He would have to remember to put on pants in the morning again. He started to step away from the window as the movers got out, but then he stopped himself and kept watching.
The pair struggled with the latch handle on the back of the truck. It took him a second to realize he was staring at a dumpy fellow kneeling behind the truck and then a smoking hot woman stepping around the corner.
The gears turned on what Phil had told him earlier and then Hank nodded with understanding. “Oh, self movers. Either saving money or you spent yourself house poor and you had to move yourselves then. God, to be young and stupid again. I would never move my own stuff again.”
She leaned on the back corner of the truck and Hank got a better view of her figure. His mouth actually dropped open. She had huge tits barely contained in her tee shirt. He wasn’t sure she was wearing a bra. He could see nipples pressing hard through the cotton even from all the way up in his living room. Her blond hair spilled down around her shoulders in golden curls. He could see the icy blue of her eyes. They were almost too blue to be from the real world. Her jeans shorts had white strings coming down from the frayed denim edges that were cut so high that they showed all the leg there was to see. Nothing left to do but rip them loose to reveal that pussy and ass which Hank just somehow knew would be perfect. Phil hadn’t been kidding. This babe was worth every ended marriage. Hank wanted to end her marriage.
He shook his head.
The frumpy husband got the door unlatched and rolled it up. Hank could see shelves, cabinets, couches, mattresses, and even filing cabinets. The dude struggled to
get the hand truck down off the back. He and the wife were discussing what to take down first.
“Come on, man,” Hank said. “Do you not have any friends? I could get a dozen guys on Super Bowl Sunday, if my wife had tits like that. We’d all be moving with raging hard ons though.”
They knelt down and Hank saw the shorts ride up as the denim hugged her curves on that fine ass. Hank gritted his teeth. That was too much.
They were trying to figure out how to get the ramp out from under the truck.
Hank sighed and rubbed at his forehead.
If he went out there, he would be doing the work that this dork should have forked out a few hundred dollars to get pros to do. They’d probably try to pay him in pizza like they were still in damn college. If he hid inside, Hank would probably hear it when the dude threw out his back. The wife might get hurt too. Hank would feel bad about letting that happen.
He shook his head and headed for his front door. Hank considered calling Phil to get him to help to. He could tell Phil about the tits, but Phil would probably just roar by on his bike again really slow without actually stopping to help. Everyone else in the neighborhood had better sense than to jump in on a free move.
As Hank rounded the outside of the house and headed for the neighbors’ drive, he realized he was probably going to be laid up tomorrow with ice packs on his back.
“A wild weekend.” Hank whispered.
He crossed the invisible line that divided his property from that of the new neighbors’ lot across the grass. As he approached the driveway, he cleared his throat a few time to keep from startling the guy. Hank definitely did not want to spend his weekend giving some guy CPR.
He saw the dumpy guy first still messing with the ramp release. It was good that he couldn’t get it to pop loose because where he had his fingers he was either going to break them or clip them off.
The guy looked up at Hank approaching and stood. Dumpy smiled and pulled his hands free of the danger zone finally. He extended his hand out to Hank and said, “Hey, I assume you are our neighbor. I’m Ralph Stills and this is my wife Missy.”
She stepped out from around the truck and looked like she had popped right out of a modeling shoot – maybe the opening to a porno. She was dressed for either that or a beer commercial. She was much hotter up close.
Hank let go of Ralph’s hand and leaned out to take Missy’s. He averted his eyes because there was no way he was going to avoid staring at her tits any other way. She really wasn’t wearing a bra. What was this girl trying to do to Hank? How did a Ralph end up with a Missy? A guy that moved himself with just his wife to help couldn’t have much money, so he had to have an enormous cock or a great personality or both. Hank found himself hoping that Ralph was the funniest asshole in the neighborhood.
Hank said, “Hey, guys, I’m Hank Irons. I live on the corner up there. Didn’t want to presume, but it looked like you might could use a hand.”
Ralph whistled and said, “I don’t think you realize what you’re in for if you are serious about helping. We hired movers, but they disappeared on us and now we’re playing hell trying to get deposits back. We had to be out of our old place by this weekend. It’s not a ton of stuff for pros, but we didn’t have enough notice that we were getting screwed to line up friends.”
“So we got screwed hard,” Missy said.
Hank realized he was still holding her hand and he let it go finally. He thought up about a half dozen jokes about screwing hard, but decided to let them all go unsaid. He had plenty of time to make things awkward with the new neighbors. There was no reason to rush it in the first conversation.
Elvis would have made the screwing jokes, Hank thought
“Looks like you do need a hand then,” Hank said.
“Maybe both your hands, Hank,” Missy said.
God, she was almost too beautiful to exist in the real world. Hank cleared his throat and turned away from her.
“Well,” Hank said. “Let’s get you moved in.”
He popped the latch on the ramp and rolled it out from underneath the truck before setting it down on the driveway closer to the garage.
“You are already the expert to my amateur,” Ralph said and then saluted Hank.
Missy said, “We’d have been fiddling with the backend all day, if you hadn’t showed up.”
She actually bent over to look into the truck between a cabinet and the mattresses. Her ass spread out in her shorts again and her tits hung down and slid around in her shirt in partial profile.
Hank rolled his eyes up to the sky and shook his head. This was going to be a long day in a lot of different ways.
Ralph rolled the handtruck up the ramp and got the platform wedged up under the first cabinet. Missy was still bent over stressing the seams of her cutoffs and daring them to try to contain those ass cheeks. Hank wondered if dumpy Ralph had any idea what to do with a smoking hot ass like that.
The cabinet tipped and teetered on the handtruck. Ralph did not have the best grip and looked like he was about to splatter his wife with it. She started to back away slowly. Hank ran up the ramp and grabbed the side of the cabinet steadying it in Ralph’s grip. Hank glanced down and realized he could see down Missy’s shirt. Definitely no bra on those tits. Her nipples stood out hard through the cotton material that was almost see through. Her shirt had pulled down where Hank had a lot of bare cleavage to check out from above. He wasn’t sure if she could tell he was looking, but she was smiling.
She grabbed one of her huge tits and pressed her hand into it changing its shape. She had to be doing that on purpose. Missy said, “I’m scared stiff. That could have crushed me.”
“Better give us a lot of room,” Hank said. “I don’t think the Ralph and Hank moving company is properly bonded or licensed.”
Missy laughed and let go of her tit letting it fall back into shape. She took hold of her collar and flapped it like she was fanning herself. A couple times she pulled it down far enough to show her nipples. They were pink.
Hank guided the front of the cabinet and Ralph rolled it down the ramp. Hank lifted a little as they reached the kitchen door. They rolled the cabinet inside.
Missy leaned in with her hands on the frame on both sides of the opening. She bent over enough to show cleavage again. She pointed. “Right there, please. Just slide it right into the spot. I know it’s big, but I think we can make it fit.”
The refrigerator already sat in place, but the rest of the house was still empty.
Ralph let the cabinet down and Hank slid it back into place by the counter just like she wanted.
“That’s perfect.” Missy said. “Just like I wanted.”
Hank got the washer on the handtruck next and walked it backward down the ramp.
“You need my help?” Ralph asked.
“No, I got this one,” Hank said.
As he eased through the kitchen door, Missy followed and said, “This is going to be really tight. Your load is bigger than my husband’s was.”
Missy patted the washer with two hollow pongs. “Yours is bigger than the skinny one Ralph just put in.”
“Right.” Hank glanced over and saw Ralph sliding a mattress and box springs off the truck.
Missy followed him in. “The laundry room is in here just past the kitchen. It may take some work to get it in.”
Hank took a wide turn and tried to shimmy the washer through. The wide back wouldn’t pass the narrow opening. He rolled back out and turned the other way.
Hank said, “We may have to take the doors off.”
“Strip off whatever you want,” Missy said.
Hank managed to get the washer through. He leaned back to try to position it properly before setting it down. Hank let out a grunt.
Missy put her hands against Hank’s lower back. “Be careful. Don’t hurt your back.”
She left her hands there as he let the washer down. Now he felt her tits press against his back. As he leaned forward to roll the handtruck out of t
he way, her hands moved down on his ass. They lingered for a moment before she let go of his ass. Hank thought he would try to return the favor, if he got the chance.
He pivoted the washer into place and leaned to look behind it. “I have tools to connect those hoses, if you guys don’t have them.”
“Ralph has some tools,” she said. Missy stepped around Hank to stand between him and the washer as she looked too. She backed her ass into his crotch and he felt his cock nestle into the crevice of her ass cheeks outlined by her tight shorts. He lingered there against her and was sure he felt her ass pumping up and down against him. She said, “We might need your tools to do the job properly.”
Hank swallowed and stepped away. “Well, whatever you need to get the job done. I’m here for you.”
He stepped out of the laundry room and went back to the truck. Ralph and Hank carried the box spring and mattress up together. By the time they reached the stairs, Ralph was huffing and puffing. Missy carried the metal frame.
