“Did you want a ride, Mrs. Smith?” asked Mr. Jones. His voice was laced with innuendo.
“No,” she said emphatically. “No, we decided on the neighborhood council that bikes would not be allowed. That information was in your Welcome to the Neighborhood packet. I just wanted to tell you that and now I’ll be going.”
But Mrs. Jones blocked her way. “No, stay. I think this is something we need to discuss.”
Mrs. Smith took a step back, but Mr. Jones was at her back. The sweat from his hard, muscular body assaulted her nose. When she swallowed, she swore she could taste the musk of his pec.
“You have a lot of rules.” Mrs. Jones tugged at the corner of the towel. It unraveled and fell to the floor. “But you’re in our house now and we have rules.”
The two of them surrounded Mrs. Smith. Both were nude. Both eyed her as though she were nude through her pleated skirt, blouse, and cardigan.
“I think you’ll like our rules a lot better,” Mrs. Jones said. “Rule number one, this is a house of love. We love everyone that comes through our door.”
Mrs. Smith moved to the door. She reached for the knob, but it didn’t budge. She turned back to the naked couple who were steadily closing in on her.
“Let me out,” she gasped.
“Not until we show you our hospitality.” Mr. Jones came up to her right side.
Mrs. Smith shut her eyes. “If you touch me, I’ll scream.”
“I’d like that very much,” said Mrs. Jones.
Mrs. Smith breaths came in heavy pants, but she didn’t scream when a soft finger grazed her cheek. Instead her body shuddered.
Mrs. Jones caged her in with her arms, not touching her. Behind Mrs. Jones, her husband kicked her legs apart. Both of them eyed her as they each reached down to their groins.
Mrs. Smith heard the wet sound of flesh being fondled. Then she heard the slip and slide of flesh meeting flesh. Mr. Jones shoved his cock up his wife’s pussy and they started having sex right in front of her.
Mrs. Smith tried to avert her gaze, but what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t get out of the house. The door was locked.
She couldn’t get away from them. They both had their arms blocking her against the door while they rutted like farm animals.
Neither were touching her. She could touch them, shove them aside, but then she’d be touching them as they had sex.
She heard the thwap, thwap of Mr. Jones’ huge cock jamming into his wife. Mrs. Smith kept her eyes up so she couldn’t see it. But the sound was enough. She felt the urge to press her thighs together, likely to ensure that neither could get at her private parts. But the friction of her inner thighs rubbing together beneath her thick skirt was making her mouth water for some reason.
“Let me out,” Mrs. Smith managed to say through her thick tongue.
“We will,” said Mrs. Jones as her body jerked rhythmically towards Mrs. Smith. “Once you’ve abided by our house rules. Nothing will happen to you that you don’t want.”
“I don’t want to be here,” said Mrs. Smith.
“Yes, you do,” said Mr. Jones, thrusting his hips into his wife and pinching her nipples. “And you want me to fuck you, which I will. And you want my wife to lick your cunt, which she will.”
Mrs. Smith pressed her thighs together even tighter, but they slipped apart. She did not want those things. But her panties became wet at just the words. With each press and slip the friction down there grew, adding to her pants.
“I’m going to scream,” she said.
“No, you’re not.” Mrs. Jones reached up and covered Mrs. Smith’s mouth. “Because if you were going to scream you would’ve done it instead of announcing it. Isn’t that right?”
Mrs. Smith took in a deep breath through the cracks and creases of Mrs. Jones’ fingers. Mrs. Jones hold loosened as her husband drove deeper into her from behind. The sounds of their heavy breathing and flesh meeting in forceful thrusts filled the room. With her mouth no longer covered, Mrs. Smith forgot to scream.
“You want to know how it tastes like, don’t you?” said Mr. Jones. “My wife’s juices on my cock.”
Mrs. Smith’s eyes went wide. Did he mean he’d stick his privates in her mouth? She’d heard of such things, but she’d never done anything like that. Her husband would never dare ask her to do something so lewd. She swallowed as Mr. Smith pulled his dripping manhood from his wife.
Mrs. Jones straightened and put her hand around Mrs. Smith’s head. Mrs. Jones shoved Mrs. Smith to her knees. Mrs. Smith went willingly. She had no other choice. The door was locked, and she was outnumbered.
She swallowed the abundance of saliva that had gathered in her mouth. Then she swallowed again as more rushed in to replace it when Mr. Smith’s thick, dripping, cock came at her.
She’d never seen a cock that big. Granted, she’d only seen one other man’s privates in her whole life. Her husband was a pinky finger in comparison to the forearm that was Mr. Smith.
She knew she should turn her head away, to close her mouth. Instead, Mrs. Smith gaped at the fleshy, single-eyed monster that crept up to her.
Mrs. Jones shoved her face down. Mrs. Smith meant to close her mouth, but when she got a whiff of Mrs. Jones’ heavy musk on her husband’s cock, Mrs. Smith gasped. She’d never smelled another woman’s cunt juices before. That slight opening of her mouth was all it took.
Mr. Jones shoved his cock in Mrs. Smith’s mouth. He grabbed her by the hair and worked her up and down on his long, thick shaft.
Mrs. Smith shook her head at the invasion, but it only jiggled the cock around in her mouth. Her tongue swiped along the bottom and she felt the thick veins that lay there.
As he continued to thrust further and further down her throat, the juices from his wife and the dollop of precum from his tip swirled in her jowls and slid down her throat.
He pulled out, leaving only the tip on her bottom lip. It gave her a chance to swallow. The combined taste of the Joneses hit the back of her throat. She went to press her thighs together again, but she felt something obstruct her. It was a hand. Mrs. Jones had her hand up Mrs. Smith skirt.
“Oh, baby she is so wet right now,” said Mrs. Jones. “I told you she was a closet slut with all that nosing around in other people’s business.”
Mrs. Jones’ fingers slipped into Mrs. Smith’s cotton panties. When they went into her vagina, Mrs. Smith jerked. No one had ever touched her but her husband and he never put his fingers there, only his penis.
Mrs. Jones’ fingers felt wrong, so wrong that Mrs. Smith tried again to close her thighs around them. But that just made Mrs. Jones pinch the secret bud at the top of her thighs; the bud her mother warned her never to touch. Well, Mrs. Jones was touching that secret place now.
Sensation shot through Mrs. Smith. She’d never felt anything like this before. It felt as though she were having a heart attack, but lower. The pulsing made her shake and shiver. She gasped again and Mr. Jones stuffed his cock even deeper down her throat.
Mrs. Smith felt her cardigan being tugged off. Then her arms were caught in the sleeves of her blouse.
She had a thick cock shoved down her throat, fingers rubbing against her slippery folds, and she couldn’t shout or move or do anything about it. She could only let it happen to her, let them have their way until they were done and she could leave.
They bunched her skirt up to her belly. Then she was air borne. She was thrown on to the couch.
Mr. Jones came over top of her and shoved that cock back down her mouth. Down below Mrs. Jones spread Mrs. Smith’s thighs and put her mouth on her lady parts. Mrs. Smith jackknifed off the couch. Two pairs of hands shoved and held her down.
Mrs. Smith was supposed to be screaming, but her mouth was full of a man’s cock. She should be trying to get away, but her arms were bound in her shirt. And now there was something going on in between her legs. Something she’d never felt before.
Mrs. Jones had her mouth on her. She was swirling her tongue
around and around that bud she wasn’t supposed to touch. Mrs. Smith felt another attack building. She tried to gulp down lungfuls of air before it hit her again, but the cock in her mouth left her lightheaded. Then there was a slap against her ass which made the sensations retreat. But only for a moment. And then they came back stronger.
The slap came again, and then again. It was Mrs. Jones’ hand. The sting made Mrs. Smith jump. This should be painful. That’s what spanking was for; a punishment. But the sting and then heightening of pleasure confused her. Her mind couldn’t focus. What the hell was happening to her?
Mrs. Jones continued to rub her slippery fingers through Mrs. Smith’s folds and then she’d slap her ass. Mr. Jones kept shoving his cock all the way down Mrs. Smith’s throat. His hands stayed bunched in her hair, moving her up and down.
The sensations built and built inside her. There was nothing Mrs. Smith could do but let it happen. Her body shivered from top to bottom. The heart attack spread from the tips of her fingers down to her toes.
Then she was airborne again. She lost the taste of Mr. Jones’ cock in her mouth. Mrs. Jones’ slippery fingers were gone, and so went the sting on Mrs. Smith’s ass.
Mr. Jones rolled on a condom. He settled her over top of him and then he aimed that cock for her pussy. Mrs. Smith began to squirm. One; because she’d never been with anyone but her husband. And two; because her husband was no where near as big and thick as Mr. Jones’ cock was. It wouldn’t fit. He’d split her in two.
But his wife came up behind her and pinched her nipples. Hard.
That distracted her as Mr. Jones shoved into her. The world exploded behind her eyes at the tight fit below and the pinching above. Her arms were still bound by her shirt. Her legs were now trapped by Mr. Jones’ thighs. All she could do was take the pounding and pinching.
“Baby, open up her cheeks so I can put my fingers in her ass,” said Mrs. Jones.
That brought Mrs. Smith back around. She squirmed to get away. Mrs. Jones slapped her ass again. Hard.
“Stop fucking around,” Mrs. Jones said. “I know you want it. Otherwise, you would’ve said no by now.”
Mrs. Jones inserted one finger into Mrs. Smith’s ass as her husband kept up his relentless pounding into her dripping pussy. All Mrs. Smith could do was ride him like the pony she’d never been given as a child.
She had no choice. Once the ride was over, they’d let her go. So she ground her hips down into Mr. Jones until the ride was over.
It was turning out to be the longest ride of her life. They flipped her around again, putting her on her back this time.
She was shocked to see that Mr. Jones was still hard. Sex with her husband never lasted more than ten minutes, twenty before they had the kids.
But Mr. Jones was still hard. He aimed that long, thick cock at her greedy hole preparing to stretch her even wider. With her arms still trapped, he shoved her legs up over his shoulders. Mrs. Jones, who came and knelt above her head, took Mrs. Smith’s shins in her hands so that Mrs. Smith couldn’t move them.
Mr. Jones entered her again, taking on the same relentless rhythm but at a deeper angle. Mrs. Smith let out a series of long, low moans as he thrust into her.
After a moment she was silenced. Mrs. Jones sat her cunt on Mrs. Smith face. There was that smell again and this time it dripped into her mouth.
“Lick,” Mrs. Jones commanded.
Mrs. Smith didn’t have a choice. Mrs. Jones was above her. Mrs. Smith’s mouth was already opened wide. She stuck out her tongue and began lapping at a woman’s cunt.
They pounded and rocked into her, over her. She felt that sensation rising in her, like she was going to burst open. They were going to break her in two. Before she could be split in half, Mr. Jones pulled out of her and Mrs. Jones took that sweet taste away.
They freed her arms. Mr. Jones pulled her shirt off and put it on the table. Mrs. Jones pulled her skirt down and folded it, sitting it next to her shirt.
Mrs. Smith looked over. She could grab her clothes and run out the back door.
“Spread your thighs for me,” said Mr. Jones.
She did as she was told. Mr. Jones spit on her ass. He rubbed his fingers around her back entrance. She wanted to squirm away, but she didn’t dare. Mr. Jones put one, and then two fingers inside her puckered hole. He began to pump.
“Your husband’s never fucked you in the ass before,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “Well I’m going to. And you’re going to let me aren’t you. You’re going to beg for it.”
She wasn’t. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
But the pumping into and out of her ass brought forth sensations she’d never known before. Just like when he’d pumped into and out of her mouth and her pussy.
Did her husband not know about this?
Just as the sensations were building, like before when he’d been in her pussy, he stopped. She felt a slap at her sensitized pussy and finally screamed.
Mrs. Jones slapped her cunt again eliciting another scream from Mrs. Smith. But it wasn’t loud enough for anyone passing by to hear. It was more of a yelp.
Mrs. Smith noted that after both slaps, her cunt had been left tingling. And the tingling was… interesting.
Mr. Jones put his fingers back in her ass. Mrs. Jones put her fingers in her pussy. They both pumped.
They pumped in perfect rhythm, as though they’d choreographed this dance especially for her. They pumped until that sensation returned, and this time they let her break in half.
When she came down, Mr. Jones was knocking on the door of her ass. She wanted to protest as he squirted oil around her asshole, but something buzzing distracted her.
Mrs. Smith looked down between her legs. Mrs. Jones aimed something that looked like a microphone at Mrs. Smith’s cunt. The buzzing was coming from the device.
Mrs. Smith knew about vibrators. She knew women used them on themselves. She always felt sorry for women who had to do this. When the vibrator landed on her secret bud, Mrs. Smith knew she’d been the fool all these years that she’d turned up her nose as these miracle devices.
Mrs. Jones buzzed her bud. Her husband worked his way into her tight, virgin asshole. Mrs. Smith could do nothing but hold on and take it.
The next wave crashed into her, shaking her from her head to her toes. But they didn’t stop the buzzing or the thrusting. They kept going. And another wave rose. This time she crashed so hard she pushed Mr. Jones out of her ass.
“You are such a greedy little whore,” said Mrs. Jones. “Now, lick my husband’s dick clean.”
Mrs. Smith was sure she’d heard the woman wrong. Mrs. Jones wanted her to take something that had been in her ass and put it in her mouth?
Mr. Jones rounded her. He leaned over her and put his latex-covered cock down her throat. She let him do it. She didn’t have a choice. He pumped her mouth like it was her pussy, or her ass. And she took it.
Mrs. Jones put her fingers up her vagina and rubbed hard and fast. Mrs. Smith felt another wave building inside of her, but this one felt different. This one made her feel like she had to pee.
No, she was going to humiliate herself even further. But she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t hold on. The hot liquid shot out of her and gushed all over Mrs. Jones thrusting fingers.
“Yeah, baby look,” said Mrs. Jones. “I made our little slut squirt.”
“I told you she wanted it,” said Mr. Jones. He pulled his cock out of her mouth and flipped her back over onto her back. Then he shoved his still hard cock back into her vagina.
Mrs. Jones took a seat on Mrs. Smith’s face again. Mrs. Smith didn’t need to be told what to do this time. She sucked and licked. Soon Mrs. Jones was writhing over her mouth, out of control. Mrs. Smith felt Mrs. Jones’ juices come down and land on her tongue and she lapped it up.
Mr. Jones sped up his pounding and soon his motions became jerky. This part she knew well. Although she had never once had a climax with her husband, her marital duties alwa
ys ended with Mr. Smith shuddering and gasping over top of her. And now, Mr. Jones had arrived at his own climax. Both Joneses moaned and shuddered over top of her as they each reached their peek.
Mrs. Smith lay there beneath them, shell-shocked after it was all over. She looked down at her body. There was sweat, and cum, and cunt juices, and red marks and, bruises all over her body. How was she going to hide this from her husband?
Well, she and Mr. Smith had already had sex earlier this week. He probably wouldn’t be on her for at least another. So, she’d have time to clean up the fluids and heal the bruises.
That is if this kind of thing didn’t happen again.
“I think we understand each other now,” said Mrs. Jones as she got up off the couch and walked away from her. “Our house, our rules.”
“You’re welcome over any time,” said Mr. Jones.
There was a snick as Mrs. Jones unlocked the front door.
“You can show yourself out,” she said. “We’re going to go take a shower before we go for a ride on our bike.”
The couple headed up the stairs together, leaving Mrs. Smith naked on the couch with their front door wide open.
The Quarterback
Johnny pulled up to his house on Main Street. This afternoon, his spot in the garage was taken by a random car. His mom’s latest boyfriend. They were likely in her room fucking. Or worse, they were in the den making out.
There was no way he was going in to find out. Instead, he put the car in park and cut the ignition. Ever since his dad skipped out on them five years ago, his mother had gone through a series of loser after loser.
It didn’t matter. Johnny wouldn’t be here much longer to watch the train wreck of a shit show that his mother put on for these guys. He’d gotten accepted at State University on a full football scholarship. Luckily, it wasn’t an academic scholarship otherwise he’d be hamstrung. All he needed was to keep his nose clean and not get injured before fall semester started, and he’d get that golden ticket out of here.
Keeping It Up with the Joneses Page 5
