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MY NEIGHBOUR QUEEN GEORGINA
I suspected there was something fishy the first moment I met him. George that is. And it was the smell of him that gave me the clue; deliciously flowery perfume.
I invited him in, as you would do when I with a new neighbour calls to introduce themself. He had picked a good time. I had just arrived in from work and was eyeing up the wine rack, as you do. “I was just about to open a bottle of wine. Can I offer you a drink?” I proposed after we had swapped names; George and Hardy.
“Actually Hardy, I would really love a gin and tonic if you have any to hand.”
He was quick off the mark in using my name, I noted. “Actually I do. Hang on a mo.” I needed to go to a cupboard in the kitchen. Gin makes me depressed so I keep some only for any womenfolk who might cross over my threshold. Not that there had been many of them of late.
I dug out the green glass bottle and returned to the living room where I did have some tonic. I poured a decent splash into a glass and enquired of George “how much tonic would you like?”
“Don’t drown it Hardy,” he replied familiarly.
I sorted out my wine and indicated that might both sit. “Your health,” he said, “and a long friendship.” His eyes met mine and held them. There was some sort of message in them that gave me the vaguest little shiver.
“Tell me about yourself George,” I asked amiably. That is the sort of question you might ask in the circumstances isn’t it? Generally people liked talking about themselves and it gave me a chance to weigh him up somewhat.
I guessed he was about forty – and found out, when I knew him better, that he was forty-two. He had very light brown, short hair styled, in what I would describe, in an American crew cut. If you think that “style” is too much of an overblown word for a crew cut, let me tell you that George was a watchword of style. He was wearing a tailored light grey suit, a matching waistcoat with a thick silver watch chain across his stomach. His shoes were immaculately polished light brown leather, even his socks looked superior, and round his neck he sported, what us Brits would call, an old school tie. If there were a Vogue magazine for men, he would be a contender.
He was a big man, sixteen stone maybe, at over six foot he dwarfed me both in body mass and in charisma.
Before you wonder, I am about ten stone, five foot six and a half, and my redeeming feature is my blonde hair. I must admit though, sitting there weighing up my visitor, I did have again those all too common feelings of inadequacy. Against my twenty-two years he was probably old enough to be my Dad.
I was studying him rather than taking too much notice about what he was telling me. I watched him look round the room and then he asked me a question. “I take it you’re not married, Harper?”
“Why would you do that?” I stammered, thrown by the question.
“No offence old chap. Just there no evidence of any femininity in the room.” He laughed conspiratorially. “Girlfriend?”
I would like very much to have replied, “I have the sexiest, prettiest darling you could ever imaging and we fuck every day of the week.” But he was my new neighbour and would find that to be a myth in no time at all. “No, not at the moment.”
“Boyfriend?”
I gasped. Did he think I might be gay. I found myself blushing. “No,” I said with less certainty than I would have liked. I needed to get this man out of my bloody house before he asked how many times I jacked myself off in the average week.
“Well, I hope we become really good neighbours Hardy and get to see something of each other. Now, tell me about the neighbourhood?”
We chatted, he finished his drink and I didn’t offer a refill. He shook my hand as he left holding it in a warm clasp that went on a little too long for my comfort. For several days afterwards his sweet perfume seemed to disinfect my little house.
After the introduction I didn’t see much of George for quite a while. We did wave to each other at a distance should our paths cross but that was all. looking back I would say with some certainty this was a deliberate ploy on his part. And so it was somewhat of a surprise to find him on my one Saturday morning.
“Hello Hardy,” he greeted me warmly. “I’m having a small get-together tonight, just half a dozen friends and some music and drinks. Would you please come and join us. I have learned the lesson, if you’re going to make some noise it is a good idea to ask the neighbours along, rather than having them banging on the party wall.” I was the only near neighbour he had, I must point out.
“Well, I………” I didn’t get my excuse out in time.
“That’s settled then. Seven-thirty, Dress extremely casual and come empty handed. Drinks are on the house.”
Oh, how I wished I had a girlfriend whom I could take with me and scotch any residual doubts there may have been in George’s mind that I was gay. But I didn’t Pendik Grup Escort and there was nobody I could bribe to pretend to be either. And it would be extremely anti-social and bad manners to make up an arsehole of an excuse for not turning up. A ray of hope came to me. Perhaps there might be a spare woman at the party? Mind you, the age difference between George and me bothered me a lot.
I showered and literally scrubbed myself clean that afternoon. I had some decent lightweight trousers and a colourful shirt. I normally wore T-shirts instead of vests. Boxers, socks and shoes – and that was me. “He did say come casual,” I kept telling myself. Should I take a bottle of wine despite being told not to? Better not. I really had to summon up considerable resolve to walk up the path to George’s front door.
“You look really great, Hardy,” George greeted me generously. “Come right in.” I walked into a room expecting it to be full of people. I might have known otherwise because there were only a handful of strange cars parked outside. Apart from George I counted seven other party goers, four men and three women. I suppose their ages varied between thirty and fifty but it was very hard to tell. The women were beautifully made up which probably made them look younger than they were and besides, the curtains were drawn and the lighting down low. The room did have a real party feel about it.
I was not offered a drink but given a large glass of “George’s celebrated punch” and introduced to everyone. They were very friendly and, to give them their due, I was made to feel very much at ease. The music was kept at a level that enabled us to chat and we did so quite freely. Each of the women asked me to dance and they were all slow numbers. No question of smooching though. It was all just jolly good friendly fun.
I finished my punch quite quickly and went to look for the punchbowl but I couldn’t find it. “All gone,” said George, “It doesn’t last long. We’re all on cocktails now. Hank is looking after the bar. Go and see what he can recommend. You won’t be disappointed.”
Shortly afterwards George hushed the party down and addressed us. “I’ve just had a call from work. There’s a minor emergency. I need to go and sort it. I won’t be long. Carry on all of you, please.”
We were having such a good time, losing George for a short while was not going to spoil the party.. I reckoned that one of the women was hitting on me quite strongly, and that perhaps my luck, or lack of it, was about to change. Age difference didn’t seem to matter in the party atmosphere.
She said her name was Maria and she was a big girl in every respect. She was probably a bit taller than me but with her high heels and hairstyle she towered over me. As a result mu face was closer to her bosom than it might of been and my, was she well endowed. Her breasts were hidden by a halter neck but she both pushed her boobs into my face and rubbed her crotch against me, seemingly at every opportunity.
I teased out of her whether she was attached to any of the men at the party and she was very positive with her denials. “Oh, we’ve known each other for years. We’ve screwed around some, but that’s all.”
“We’ve screwed around some?” That sounded very positive to me. Could I have asked for a better come on? I started thinking about finding a quiet corner, a bedroom, perhaps leading her by the hand round to my house next door.
Just about then the front doorbell went. Maria detached herself from me and went to see who was calling. She came back with another woman, very much dressed for the party. It seemed everyone went forward to greet her – just as they had done to me. As I did not know her I hung back, but when the greeting was over Maria led her by the hand and over to me. “I want you to meet Angeline, Hardy. She’s a real angel as you can see.”
She was indeed voluptuous, Like all the women, beautifully made up, perhaps hiding her real age. She was certainly older than me but I was getting a real hankering for the older woman at George’s party. She wore a bodice that went right up to her the cameo brooch on her neckline Her dress, belted at the waist extended only to mid-thigh giving a tantalising view of her shapely legs. Were they black tights or stockings? Rather incongruously she was wearing flat shoes. Perhaps she had had to walk a good way over to the party? Just as well though, because all the women at the party seemed to tower over me and she would have been a colossus.
All too soon I was heavily into thoughts about Angeline and those of Maria were dimming fast. It seemed that the punch had made a re-appearance and a lady called Stella came round with glasses three-quarters full. Everybody seemed to taking up the offer – why shouldn’t I have? I sort of knew for a fact I was on a promise with Angeline. I could see her, in my mind’s eye, drooling to get at my jewels.
Sure enough, she leaned down in yet another slow dance, gently lifted Pendik Manken Escort my chin, and slowly slid her tongue between my lips. I melted like ice in a furnace. I very nearly spunked in my pants – or thought that I did. I needed no second bidding to be led away, hand in hand, and up the stairs to a bedroom. I had never met a female who was so positive minded when it came to sex and was so keen to be fucked by me.This was going to herald in a new dawn.
Angeline laid me on my back on the bed, undid the zipper on my trousers , pulled off my shoes and socks and the trousers followed. She slipped a hand into my jockeys and stated to play with my equipment there. A sort of panic gripped me. I could not stand much of that. Just the realisation of it all was threatening to tip me over the edge. I wanted to grip her hand and slow her down. No, I would need to stop her for a while. But Angeline was having none of it. It seemed as though she was quite deliberately trying to tip me over the edge. And she did of course.
Angeline felt me coming and changed the trajectory of fire from straight upwards to down the bed towards my head. The first string actually reached so far I had the first experience of cum on my face. I even slid some inside my mouth with my finger I was felling so absolutely debauched. By the time my fifth delicious spasm was abating the stream was just a trickle and Angeline was moving towards a role change. She turned me over as if I was just a sack of potatoes.
The penny was dropping anyway, but when I felt two fingers lubricating my arse the realisation was proven beyond doubt. Angeline was no Angel at all, but a man in drag and that man could surely be no other than my neighbour George. As my senses returned I smelled his smell, the unique perfume that had penetrated my house the first day we had met.
I was sort of numbed by the realisation of it all. My body joined my mind and went limp, and I seemed detached from the humping that was getting me in the position George needed in order to rape me. I felt something nudge up against my sphincter and, at last, I found the strength to react; to try and defend myself. I turned on my side, brought my legs up and shouted as loud as I possibly could, “rape, rape, help, help”. Thank god, I heard a rush of feet in the corridor outside and sure enough the door burst open It was the other three ladies at the party with Maria in the lead. Strangely I remember feeling relief but with an undeniable flash of disappointment.
I only realised long afterwards the three “ladies” had been waiting in the corridor outside the bedroom for that very moment.
There was some scuffling and the new three pairs of hands scrambled to get hold of some part of me. I was then pulled round so as I could get my feet on the floor, or so I thought, but instead a finger was inserted in my arsehole and roughly pushed in as far as it would go. I realised much later that gesture was a form of warning. Then came the lube, and in profusion, careless as to how much escaped and stained the sheet below.
At that point I relaxed and gave up the fight. I was pinned down by four meaty men in drag, all of whom were apparently determined to have me one way or another. George positioned his penis at the starting gate. There was no need for pretence any more. I knew it was George. And, in time, I would get to know the feel of his prick blindfolded, the smell of his precum and the taste of his semen.
I lost my anal virginity there and then. One surely cannot count the butt plugs and the dildo I experimented with over the years, as robbing me of my virgin status. Perhaps because I so experimented there was not much pain as I was being fucked; rather a sort of felling of being wanted, of being desired. By the time the fourth queen had her prick inside of me I was leaking like an open ended sewer pipe and moving my torso to meet the thrusts in some form of encouragement to my would-be rapist. I think that was Maria but I didn’t take much notice of ‘who’. At that juncture I was all about squeezing as much pleasure from the situation as was offered to me.
The last prick exploded, the aftermath was savoured, and then the four queens moved out of the room leaving me exhausted and leaking. I would learn they went back to the party, gave the equivalent of thumbs-up to the men folk, and carried on much as they had left off; drinking, laughing and dancing.
I scraped a wodge of cum from around my arsehole and upper thighs and sucked it off , rolling it round my mouth before swallowing. That was the sluttish thing I could think of doing right then. Treated like a slut, something inside of me wanted to act like one.
I did not slide out of the front door and slink off home with my tail between my legs, much to my surprise. I cleaned myself in a rudimentary way in the bathroom, put my underpants on but not my trousers, and bare-footed walked down the corridor and rejoined the party. The music didn’t Pendik Masöz Escort stop as I entered obviously, but the occupants in the room did. As soon as they realised I was compliant and not about to raise the roof in a furious outburst, there were smiles all round. At that moment I was sort of accepted into the group.
As a sort of reward for my fortitude I was offered another glass of punch. I danced with some of the men and they wasted little time slipping a hand into my underpants and having a good feel. My reaction was a positive one. This was all just part of a night of debauchery.
I leaked stale cum for quite some time the next day and I was very sore indeed. I applied liberal quantities of Vaseline where appropriate. I might well have reacted against the gay scene had my primary experience been that just that of the party night, but I was to be hooked by an entirely different circumstance.
A couple of evening later I found George on my doorstep standing behind a huge bouquet of red roses. His smile was soft and endearing and any thoughts I might have had to quickly close the door on him were dispelled. I accepted the flowers prettily and suggested he might come inside. What else could I do?
He was dressed very casually; open necked shirt and white slacks that hugged his torso and made no secret of the shape of him. I could not help noticing the bulge of his groin and I experienced some pleasurable flashbacks to the night that he raped me; all in the space of leading the way into my lounge. “Can I offer you a G and T George?”
He accepted and was solicitous about my welfare after my “night of sexual trauma” – his words, not mine. “I hope that the roses go a tiny way to make amends,” he said gallantly. “It all got a bit out of hand really. The problem was my friends found you so attractive. They all wanted a piece of you. And as host I sort of – gave way to them. I am very sorry about that, Hardy.”
I knew he was lying through his perfect teeth. But I was a sucker for the words, “my friends found you so attractive.” That was life manna from heaven for my insecurities. I found myself blushing and my emotions rising.
George move across to me and sat on the settee beside me, putting an arm round my shoulders. That one small gesture of kindness set me off crying. He pulled me closer to him. I found his flowery scent both overpowering and compelling. He completed the embrace by encircling me with both his arms and I snuggled into his shirt, still gently sobbing. He must have patiently nursed me like that for a good ten minutes.
I relaxed against him feeling a sense of peace and safety the likes of which took me back to snuggling into my mother’s bosom. Eventually George moved. I felt a finger under my chin raising my face and my lips to his. That long tender kiss, I believe, change, or confirmed, the direction of my emotional life.
He hugged me for a good while longer until I found his finger lifting my chin for a second time and another passion packed kiss. But this time, instead of drawing away, his tongue slowly slithered into my mouth like a snake with a skin of fine sandpaper. My senses reacted as if answering to a starting gun; turning romance into lust in a matter of seconds.
This time I was the aggressor. To start with anyway. I sucked his tongue into my mouth as far as he would let me and I ran a hand up his leg and cupped his balls, then squeezed them gently. Briefly his mouth gaped so I knew I was getting to him. I went for his zip and propelled to downwards and his naked testicles literally fell out into my hand. He had come prepared; no underpants. This time it was my turn to gasp.
George tackled the buttons of his shirt and then threw the flaps widen open. He wanted me to suck his nipples and I was eager to oblige. They went hard as I sucked and licked them both alternately and the goose pimples spread across his chest. For once I felt in control, But not for long.
He broke away and undressed me completely in what seemed a matter of seconds. He disrobed himself in similar quick time. Then he fell backwards into the settee and pulled me onto his lap. Before I could orientate myself his forefinger was in the dark side of my sphincter and in as far as it would go. I felt like a child, cradled and safe, and in that mode he kissed me gently full on the lips, his finger making little fucking-type movements. Not did it only remind me it was there, it was heightening my randyness.
My sores, left over from the party could take a finger fuck, but not yet a penis of any size. George was well aware of that, he told me afterwards. By this time George’s prick was bulging with blood, its head enticingly purple. I slipped to my knees and greedily slipped my mouth round it and snared the hood with my lips and tongue, sucking in as hard as I could. He made a playful attempt to pull away but I had him anchored. I think that really turned him on judging by his gasping.
I suddenly realised the danger in that he might prematurely ejaculate; well before either of us wanted. Unfortunately I didn’t release him in time and he came long and hard and his sperm travelled straight down my throat and into my stomach. I really felt cheated although, of course, it wasn’t George’s fault.
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