A Neighborhood Party

CHAPTER ONE "Man," he replied, turning toward his wife and smiling. "I'd give a whole month's pay to get a little of that stuff. I haven't seen anything that young and tender since we had that trip to Europe three years ago. I could really go for that little doll." He turned slowly from the den window where he had been looking out over his new neighbors' back yard, paused for a moment and then stole another quick glance at the young, lithe blonde in the tight shorts pushing the lawn mower next door. He sighed heavily and walked across the room to where his wife was lying in her robe on the thick, soft mohair rug. "I like 'em with experience too, baby, don't get me wrong," he grinned, dropping to his knees to sit beside her on the floor. "I spent too many years training you the right way not to appreciate it, but you gotta admit a little strange stuff never hurt anyone." "Well, I'm glad it doesn't." Marsha Burns looked up at him from the floor. "If it did, you'd have been dead and gone a long time ago." "Baby, that's where I get the experience to keep a nympho like you happy. I couldn't have held on to you for three minutes if I weren't the best. Now could I? Besides, you get your share from the club." Harry reached down the length of her long, well-shaped legs to the back of her knees and playfully brought his hand up under her robe, pushing the hem abruptly up the backs of her thighs before she could resist. "Ohhh, you beast," she jumped forward trying to escape the playful fingers coursing their way up along the sensitive parts of her legs. "Stop, stop it, Harry, please, please," she giggled out of control, knocking the cup of coffee she had been drinking into the air and spilling it across the rug, "Look what you done now. Ohhhh, Ohhhh, God stop, Harry, please stop." Harry grinned above her, placing one hand in the small of her back and pinning her to the floor, continued his rummaging up between his wife's flailing legs and laughing aloud at the same time at her helpless squeals for mercy. "No pants this morning, eh," he chided loudly as her robe flew up, exposing the lush, white, rounded cheeks of her buttocks. "Don't tell me I don't have a nympho here. Didn't I give you enough last night. Didn't I, didn't I?" "Ohhhh, yes, Harryeee! Yes, yes, anything you say, just stop it! Stop it, you're driving me crazy!" his wife bucked and twisted beneath the hand holding her tightly to the floor, laughing uncontrollably from the playful tickling he was subjecting her to. "Anything I say, anything," he demanded playfully, continuing the twisting of her flesh between her legs. "Yes! Ohhhh, yes, anything, anything!" "Help me get in those short pants next door?" "Yes, damn you, yes, just stop, stop!" He laughed aloud again and released his hold on her squirming body, withdrawing his hand from up under her robe. "That's my baby, knew you wouldn't deny me anything." "You bastard," his wife grinned up at him as she rolled over and smoothed the wrinkled material back into place. "I might have known you had something in mind when you started playing that little game of hanky panky with me." "Nonsense, love, you know I would have done that anyway. Besides, after we discuss this little matter and decide how we're going to approach it I just might give you a little reward: You'd like that, wouldn't you?" "Mmmmm," she smiled up at him, coquettishly. "I might just accept your offer if you think you're up to it." "Baby, I'm always up to it." He said rising from the floor. "What about a pick-me-up to stir up the blood a little? After all, it's Sunday and that's as good an excuse as any." "Since when did you need an excuse to swill that stuff down? If I don't kill you first then one of these days it will." "I can handle it, Sweetie, you know that," he winked at her. "What'll you have?" "If you're really serious about that offer," she smiled, "I'd better have a little vitamin with it. Make it a good strong screwdriver and easy on the orange juice." Harry walked behind the well stocked bar and mixed the drinks quickly and skillfully while he hummed happily to himself. He knew now that as soon as he had Marsha's agreement on the seduction of their young, luscious new neighbor that it wouldn't be long before he was in. She had never failed him yet when she had put her heart in a thing and he knew that she had an interest also in the young punk of a husband the girl had. He and Marsha made a good pair, he mused as he poured two generous shots of vodka into each glass on the bar in front of him. They both liked the innocent, virginal type that took some real work and planning to get at. The triumph was so much greater when it became a real act of seduction and not just one of the swapping things that they had become so involved in. Of course, he enjoyed those too, but the recruiting of new members was the fun part. Taking two young innocents this way and leading them on into a social life that they thought was modern and liberal until all of a sudden, without warning, they were watching each other get screwed silly by someone they hardly knew. Aside from the fact that his new neighbor was a cute little wench that he'd really like to give it to, he'd enjoy seeing the expression on the face of that punk kid the first time he saw his young wife getting a f**k thrown to her by someone else. This would be half the satisfaction and would be good to take him down a peg or two. Harry smiled in satisfactory anticipation. He had seen a thousand like that kid, fresh in the business world and knowing it all. All dressed alike in their permanent press button-down shirts and Ivy League suits, and all ready to conquer the world. His old man had probably put him through school, too, and maybe even landed him the job. He hadn't had to scrounge the best he could to get ahead like he himself had had to do, starting as a used car salesman during the depression when people could afford a car like they could fly to the moon. Well, he had learned a few things about living and life that he could teach that young punk and all his kind. They thought they knew it all with their constant demonstrations against this and that cause that they hadn't really enough experience to fully understand. Well, maybe he didn't understand those things either as much as he should but he did know about people and enough to understand that there was nothing they wouldn't do if subjected to the right circumstances. By God, he would make certain his new neighbors got their chance to be subjected to those circumstances. "What's taking so long with those pick-me-ups?" His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the lazy drawling voice of Marsha floating across the room. "You must be stalling. Aren't planning to renege on your promise, I hope. I might change my mind about helping with the little hussy next door." "Not on your life, baby. You're going to get a working over like you haven't had since last night. I'm gonna practice up a little for the little b***h next door." "Well, I don't know about that. I'd kinda like to be taken for me, and not some young chick you don't even know will put out." "Oh, she'll put out all right," Harry grinned, nodding his head positively. "With the plan I've got worked out, we'll have 'em both in the rack within a week." "You don't even know if you can talk to them, my dear boy. Didn't he kind of cut you off yesterday when you invited them over for a drink?" "Yeah, he did," Harry winced in remembrance, handing the orange-colored drink down to Marsha and taking a seat beside her. "Gave me the impression he felt he was just a little too smart to mix with the likes of a used car salesman. He's been to college and all that. Even works in a bank as an investment executive, but it still don't cut no mustard with me." "My dear, you're a very modest used car salesman. After all, you do own five agencies here in the County. That should make you just about the richest used car salesman in the country." "Just a figure of speech," Harry smiled turning his glass up and draining a large swallow from it. "It doesn't seem to matter how far you go in this business, though, everyone still thinks you're just a salesman and there doesn't seem to be anyone any lower on the social ladder than one who sells cars no matter how rich they might be." "I think it's just that put-on home-spun attitude of yours. You know, `I'm just a country boy type.' But you can't kid me, Harry. I've lived with you long enough to know that you push that image to the hilt." "Never had a complaint in the business," Harry said. "Nobody likes to admit they've been had by a yokel even if you've taken the shirt off their back. They even brag to their friends about the good deals they get and then they come down to get their shirts taken off too. It's all one big merry-go-round. But we can't complain, can we? We're doin' pretty well." "Mmmmm, Why do you think I left the chorus line in Vegas, my dear? Certainly not your good looks." "Is it all money, baby? Is that why you've stuck around for eight years?" Harry grinned his broad grin again and placed his hand on the back of her thigh, massaging the soft, sensitive flesh gently. "Harry," she crooned softly, "Be careful, we've got business to plan out remember." She looked up at him coyly as he continued the teasing ministrations. Marsha gritted her teeth slightly as she felt the old feeling drifting slowly through the tips of her nerves. She was lucky to have Harry for a husband and she knew it well. He was one of the wealthiest and most successful car dealers in the country and took very good care of her in spite of the flamboyant crudeness and periodic streaks of cruelty in his sometimes overzealous s****l demands. Not that she minded the latter, she mused, she was almost as bad as he was and perhaps that was what held them together. He didn't mind at all what she did as long as she didn't hide it from him and was there when he needed her. But, by the same token, he did whatever he liked also in the way of outside s****l activity but would never hide it from her. In fact, it had made their marriage more exciting than anything else and had brought them closer together. Then, there was the swap club too. Yes, both by common consent had had their own little affairs but had never let them get beyond the physical stage. It was kind of like having your cake and eating it too and had added so much interest to their lives together that she could never want it any other way. She liked the arrangement they had with either being able to do as they pleased because she had seen so many of her friends lapse into a bored and almost unbearable existence without any variety in their lives at all. It wasn't pleasant watching people you had known as young, gay individuals suddenly wilting away into sad mechanical-like suburban night dwellers whose every action fitted into a slot or pattern that varied not one iota from one year to the next. She was grateful to Harry for salvaging her from this fate and really, in the beginning anyway, almost forcing her to accept the fact that life could be lived in a different manner than that accepted without question by the majority of society. She had to admit, it had taken some doing on his part to get her to participate that first time in the swapping thing that was so popular now but after the first time she hadn't complained about going to the meetings again. In fact, she rather looked forward to these little twice-monthly affairs now and planned her whole schedule around them. She absolutely made certain she had an easy day before the meetings so that she wouldn't be too tired to give her best. She even made Harry come home early from the office to rest up and take a nap so he, too, would be prepared for the long exacting evening.