Welcome to E. Mayberry

by Chris Genovese

  “No. Not inside the gate anyway.”

  “It’s charming,” I said.

  “Yes,” Tension said. “A charming little neighborhood full of kinky secrets.”

  “Nice,” I replied. “That should be the slogan maybe printed on T-shirts or mugs.”

  “It’s not Disney World,” he said.

  “You haven’t lived there.”

  “Fair enough. So keep telling me about your arrival.”

  “The sun was going down but it was still bright enough for me to see the sign: Welcome to E. Mayberry. I didn’t know what the “E” stood for at the time.”

  “And if you did would you have still entered?”

  “I would’ve gone anywhere Bastian asked me to, and he was only asking me to enter a quaint, cookie-cutter development with manicured lawns and nicely groomed gardens. It could’ve been worse.”

  “Tell me more,” he said. “Tell me what I can’t see from an aerial view or in some bullshit homebuyer’s catalogue.”

  “Oh you won’t find any catalogues for Erotic Mayberry,” I said.

  “Tell me why,” he said.

  I didn’t like how he pried but I was excited to share my experiences with someone.

  “I’d never lived in a place like this. As we drove through the entrance arches, Bastian waved at the security guard who waved right back. Seconds through the gate I saw a beautiful blonde woman with her hair up in a bun, on her hands and knees working in her garden. She gave us a wave as we drove by. Bastian honked his horn at her.

  A couple houses down, a raised garage door revealed an older guy with a bald head working on a motorcycle. Bastian honked at him too and he waved back.

  The neighbors seemed so nice. So happy. So friendly.

  We pulled into the driveway of a two-story home painted the same eggshell color as the rest of the houses. Reece was stenciled on the mailbox along with the address, house #303. Bastian parked, hopped out, and ran around to my side of the car to open the door and help me out. He took me by the hand and led me into the house.

  “This,” he said, “Is my home. Ours if you’d like it that way.”

  I didn’t understand. Was he asking me to live with him? To marry him? To be his maid? What?

  The inside of the house was immaculately clean. Everything was red, black, and white, very bachelor pad(ish). It definitely needed a woman’s touch.

  On the walls were black and white pictures of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, the whole Rat Pack all together, Marilyn Monroe, Charlie Chaplin, and a few others I didn’t recognize. Bastian was definitely fond of old photos.

  A jukebox, the old fashioned kind, was placed between the black leather sofa and loveseat.

  Red roses were in vases on the end tables.

  None of this is important when it comes down to it but I think it’s important to understand how cool it all seemed to me. It was like I’d walked into the home of someone who didn’t give a damn but really did give a damn both at the same time. Does that make sense?

  I suppose it doesn’t.

  He was a bachelor, a self-created soloist, happy in his world but also longing to share it with someone. I was that someone.

  Bastian showed me around the two-story abode, making sure to point out the two large upstairs bathrooms, both with his and her sinks, and the large walk-in closet. He knew enough about women to know that I’d be ecstatic about the closet…once I had some clothes to put in it.

  For the moment, one side was filled with his suits and polos and sweaters and slacks. The other side had one black dress on a hanger and pushed to both sides, separated as if to make sure that dress stood under a spotlight of its own, were other clothes, all totally my style.

  I looked back at him, confused.

  “Are you married?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “I don’t understand. I’m sorry. Please tell me these don’t belong to a girlfriend or something.”

  He shook his head.

  “An ex-girlfriend?”

  “They’re for you,” he said.

  That was impossible. He didn’t know my size or my style and he didn’t even know that I would agree to come to his house until earlier that morning.

  “I’ve fallen for you, Sunshine,” he said. “I live alone here. But I’m hoping you’ll change that. This is a special place and you’ll find out a lot more very soon. But not just anybody can live here. You have to be…well…let’s just say you have to be sponsored in. And I knew the moment I laid eyes on you, the moment you first smiled at me, that you were the one I wanted to bring here.”

  My heart was doing backflips in my chest. I was worthless trash. You could search “Stormy Winters” and find me sucking cock, taking it in the ass, having threesomes…I wasn’t supposed to be in this beautiful house with this gorgeous man.

  I suddenly burst into tears, stepped past him, and ran for the stairs. I wanted to get out of there and go back to my shitty life, where I wouldn’t be able to soil his pristine existence. He deserved better. He was a fucking doctor with membership to an exclusive club or whatever this place was.

  I was halfway across the living room when he grabbed my arm, spun me around, and yanked me into his embrace. He held me so tight I thought I might soak into his body. Then he kissed me.

  Our first kiss.

  It was deep and passionate and my mouth opened instantly, accepting his tongue and savoring the flavor of his mouth. I’d never been kissed like that. He breathed into me and I inhaled at the same time, feeling lightheaded as his breath ran through my body and settled somewhere between my thighs. I wanted him.

  One of his hands reached up to the back of my head and the other found the small of my back. He pulled me into him even harder. But none of it seemed forced. It was like he couldn’t bring me close enough to him. Like he’d never be satisfied until I’d climbed into his body. That’s how close he wanted me. And it was perfect.

  He gripped my ass in both hands and lifted me up where I could wrap my legs around him. Then he carried me upstairs and into the bedroom like a woman he couldn’t wait to make love to, not a porn star he wanted to fuck.

  Inside the bedroom, he set me down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his shirt. It was the first time I’d ever seen him bare chested and he was ripped with muscle. His body matched his house which matched his personality…immaculate.

  His body was a temple and all I could think of was desecrating it.

  I reached for his belt and unbuckled it.

  Eagerly reaching through his black briefs, I found his cock, semi-erect but thick, and pulled it free. As soon as I had it in my hand it shot up to fully erect. I looked up at him and leaned forward to take him in my mouth.

  He put his palm against my forehead and stopped me.

  “There will be plenty of time for that,” he assured me. “But right now I just need you.”

  He dropped to his knees, pushed me back onto the bed, and pulled my pants down to my ankles. He pulled each of my shoes off gingerly and placed them on the floor somewhere. I could hear the soft tap of each shoe touching the carpet. With that, he slid my pants over my feet and pulled down my panties.

  The room was slightly cool and I remember feeling so exposed. My body was no secret. Everyone had seen it but right then, I felt like a virgin again, like my pure body was being put on display.

  “Bastian,” I said.

  “Yes, love?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want to own you.”

  My head fell back and I stared up at the ceiling as I listened to him drop his pants and I felt his naked body climb between my legs. At the time, I didn’t quite know what he meant, but it sounded good. I needed to be owned. I was no good on my own and if it was what Bastian wanted, I was happy to oblige. I’d been owned my whole life, but by lowlifes. This time it was by a gentleman.

  My legs fell open for him and I raised my knees to plant my feet on the mattress, spreading my pussy open as wid
e as I could. I loved the familiar burn between my thighs as I forced myself open past the point where my somewhat limber body was comfortable.

  His muscular arms reached over mine and he hovered over me in a push-up position. I loved the way his hair hung in front of his eyes and his mouth lifted in one corner with a grin.

  He paused and soaked up the moment.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said.

  “Believe what?”

  “You’re here.”

  “Believe it,” I said.

  With that, I lifted my legs around and hooked my heels against his bare ass, pulling him closer to me. The head of his cock found home quickly and I closed my eyes and inhaled, cherishing the feeling of his head at the door. One of his arms disappeared from my side as he reached down to use his hand to swirl the tip of his dick at my opening, using my wetness to prepare himself.

  “Sunshine,” he said.

  “Shh,” I replied as I once again heel hooked him and pulled him forward, this time forcing his cock into me. “Just fuck me.”

  I’d spent so much time being told by directors how to look into the camera and how to react with each thrust and what to say and what position to maintain that I’d forgotten how easy sex could be. Even after work, when hooking up with fellow actors, we quite often tried the positions we were used to on camera, most of which aren’t natural.

  Sometimes the best sex is the sheet wrinkling, limbs flailing, sweat drenching fuck that comes from two people who want to become one.

  I gasped.

  I yelled.

  I cried.

  All because I wanted to.

  Bastian’s cock drove into me with a longing, a needing, a desire to touch places inside me nobody else had. He held me as tight as he did during our embrace downstairs, and when he rocked forward, my body went with him.

  When he pulled back, I bucked to meet him halfway, and I moaned as he went balls deep in me.

  My tits were flat against his chest and his balls slapped my taint and he stayed on top the entire time. Somehow I wasn’t concerned. I knew he’d open up to me more sexually later but for this first time, it was about him claiming me, owning me as he put it earlier. He was marking his territory. And I was faithfully his.”

  “Do you think I can have a glass of water?” Tension asked.

  He looked spent, like he’d been with me in my story, fucking me the whole time.

  “Is everything okay, Detective?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine. It’s an intense…story.”

  “It gets much better. They don’t call it Erotic Mayberry for nothing.”

  I got up to go get him a glass of water and as I stood in the kitchen filling his glass, I pulled off my panties and set them on the counter. Then I slipped two fingers between my legs and dabbed at my pussy. I was so wet. Remembering my first night with Bastian always did that to me. We had so many other sexual romps but that one was our first and that made it significant enough to stay with me forever.

  I walked back to the living room and handed him the glass of water. Then I turned and placed my panties on the coffee table between us. He stared at them.

  “I’m sorry, telling my story gets me a little…well…aroused. And the fabric was bothering me. I’d rather feel free.”

  “I’m sure you would,” Tension replied.

  “Yes, I like freedom. Freedom to go where I want, freedom to meet who I want, freedom to fuck. Freedom.”

  “And did Bastian give you this freedom you so crave?”

  I laughed. It was a great question and he was definitely playing along. He would be desperate to bend me over the sofa arm by the end of my story and I was trying to decide if I’d let him.

  “Bastian gave me lots of things. Freedom? Well, let me tell you the rest of my story and you can decide for yourself.”

  “Later that evening, as we lay in bed spooning, he explained more about my new life. He loved to spoon and so did I. Mmm, the feeling of a man’s flaccid cock at the crack of your ass. Delicious.

  “This place is different from anywhere else you’ve ever lived or even visited,” he assured me.

  “Yes, it’s beautiful. So clean and so…”

  “I wouldn’t call it clean,” he interrupted. “In fact, this might be the dirtiest neighborhood in existence.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “How do I put this the right way? This is a very sexual neighborhood. Some strange things go on here. Strange but good. If you can get used to the lifestyle, you’ll find that nearly all stress melts away and every moment is a good time.”

  “Sexual neighborhood? Ha. Did I just find my dream community?”

  He chuckled but went back to explaining.

  “It’s not for everyone. First of all, an open mind is definitely needed in order to truly get the experience. You know how there are swinger clubs?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well…this is basically a big swinger community. No jealousy. No anger. Just…fuck and be merry.”

  Swingers? That was unexpected. What did that even mean? Was I going to have to share Bastian with other women? Was I going to be shared with other men? I think he sensed the concern in my silence.

  “Nothing will ever be forced on you. But this lifestyle is a big decision. There’s something I need to give you but later. First, I want to take you to a party tonight. If you’re comfortable with what you see and experience there, then I’ll give you a gift. I’ll explain the gift later.”

  “A gift?”

  I reached back and grabbed his dick, making sure to touch his balls in the process.

  He laughed.

  “That gift you can have whenever you want it. But the other, that’s important. Let’s go to the party first.”

  Chapter 4

  The black dress hanging in the closet was there for a reason. It was my attire for the night. The arms were sheer lace and the bottom of the dress had a perfectly-planned slit up one leg to show me off. It was one of the sexiest dresses I’d ever seen, great for showing off my cleavage. It was clear that Bastian wanted everyone to see his prize.

  Is that what I was? A prize?

  We walked over to the neighborhood clubhouse and along the way passed other couples. Waves were exchanged but nothing more. The sun had set and I was surprised I didn’t see any young people, no children riding bikes along the safe sidewalks.

  “Bastian,” I said. “Are there a lot of children here?”

  He laughed, a little too loud, then realized it and piped down.

  “It wasn’t a joke. What’s so funny?”

  “No,” he said. “There are no children here. Children are not allowed.”

  “Not allowed?”

  Something about that statement seemed cold. I loved children. I always waved hello and gave money for candy to a few of the kids that usually hung out on the front stoop of my apartment complex. My nieces were two of my favorite people on earth.

  “I’ll explain everything a little later when I give you the book.”

  “The book?”

  “Don’t worry about all that right now. I promise you’ll understand everything later and you’ll feel much more comfortable. If I try to tell you everything now it’ll be jumbled and will be too much to take in. You’ll get confused.”

  Confused? I’m not a fucking idiot.

  I didn’t like the secrecy. I didn’t like being treated like a little kid. It reminded me of when I was younger and I’d ask my dad from the back seat of the car, “Dad where are we going?” He’d always reply with, “You’ll find out when we get there.” That’s how I felt at this moment.

  Suddenly he stopped, took both my hands in his, and leaned down to touch his forehead against mine.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “I’m trying to but to be honest you’re kind of freaking me out.”

  “Who took care of you at the hospital?”

  “You did.”

  “And who’s going to take care
of you now?”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Seriously?” he said. “After all that time I spent by your bedside you don’t trust me?”

  “Ok, I trust you.”

  “Good, then trust me. It’ll all make sense later. You’re not the first newbie in E. Mayberry.”