Chapter 1

I was a bit aggravated when the doorbell rang, especially since I had been minding my own business and nursing the hangover from hell. Normally, I knew my limit and didn’t bother downing one Jack and Coke after another. It was yet another attempt at a relationship to crash and burn when the person, yet again, learned that I wasn’t into monogamy. I’ve had plenty of those happen to me of late, and it was very discouraging, but at least I didn’t waste my time or theirs with false promises of fidelity that I refuse to make.

Quite frankly, I thought of society’s rules as a bunch of bullshit, anyway, and wanted nothing more to do with them, which was a huge part of why I didn’t date in the conventional sense as much as in the past. Whenever I did, though, I managed to go through dates very fast, rejecting each of them after the first date ninety percent of the time. I eliminated the risk of being tied down into conventional relationships, to be sure, but it was a serious attrition rate that was only mitigated by the infrequency of such occasions in terms of both emotional and financial damage.

Anyway, I had far too much Jack and Coke (on an empty stomach, no less) the night before and I definitely felt the consequences of it now. So, it was with considerable annoyance that I answered the doorbell in my boxers, only to find no one there. It must have been a prank, I decided, which irritated me even more by then. I was in no mood to mess around with such things and if I caught whoever did it, I would tear them a new asshole, I told myself. I was grouchy and horny besides (when wasn’t I horny, I laughed to myself, tired of the usual crap).

That was when I looked down at the front porch bench and saw it: the package. It was nothing that one would expect the brown guys to deliver, but hey, why not, right? I hadn’t ordered anything to be delivered to me, no parcels or anything like that, but I was naturally curious, especially since it had my name on it. I was so curious, in fact, that I didn’t wait to bring it inside before opening it, which was most unlike me. I didn’t even read the return address, which was also unusual for me.

I simply opened the parcel, and there it was: what appeared to be a very kitschy, Trekkie-style, old-fashioned phaser/laser type of ray gun. I chuckled as I looked at it and examined the “controls” as well as the barrel and grip. It was cute, but clearly someone’s idea of a gag gift, right? Whose idea of a prank was this? Well, at least it got me laughing, so they did me a favor, I thought. That was a neat way to lighten my mood, I decided. I would have to check the return address and find a way to thank whoever it was for this free “ray gun,” wouldn’t I?

That was the moment that I saw Chrissy Fairfax, the seemingly happy, often bubbly, perhaps a bit too syrupy Christian housewife next door. (You know the type ... plaster smile for public appearance, but resting bitch face and cattiness otherwise.) She could be a bit annoying at times, such as when she friended on a social media site. That was less of an issue than when bombarded me with prayer and money request memes that were all about the J guy (that’s Jesus for you fortunates who had lived in blissful ignorance).

Well, there was that and her female pastor (not that I objected to the idea of female clergy as such, just to the idea of clergy in general and to the hypocrisy of cherry-picking biblical verses such as many Christians did about Paul’s writing on female ministers), whose videotaped sermons she often tagged me in for some odd reason. This wasn’t even counting multiple invitations to her church (well-meaning to be sure, but no ... just not going there), the occasional “gift” of Chick tracts (though I must confess that I got a good laugh out of many of those), and a New Testament in the New International Version (so, that’s more modern English for those two thousand year old lies, of course).

I also thought it hilarious that the Chick tracts denounced the very version of Christian holy writ that Jon (that was her husband’s name) and Chrissy handed to me as being an evil plot by the Vatican (for those unfamiliar with the late Jack Chick and his tracts, to him, everything came down to a nefarious Catholic-Marxist-Islamic plot for global hegemony at the behest of Satan). Apparently, Chrissy and her hubby missed that part of their tracts or cherry-picked that bit of questionable literature (smut was fine, but no missionary tracts for me other than for pure amusement ... I had literary standards, thank you very much).

“Hello, neighbor. How are you this fine Saturday morning? God is in His Heaven and all’s right with the world, wouldn’t you say?” Chrissy chirped a bit too much for my liking, “and what is that, a toy laser gun?” she asked me from the hedge between our houses (there wasn’t a fence in that part of the boundary, just a hedge).

“Chrissy, I swear, you’re the female Ned Flanders at times, you know,” I chuckled now, adding, “and no, it’s a real ray gun, can’t ya tell? The aliens, the little gray guys, they dropped it on my front porch to help them take over the planet. I agreed because, frankly, your god’s just a bit out of shape and practice, not quite up to snuff anymore. I figure that new management’s in order,” I taunted her a bit, goading her to see what she really thought of me (nothing good, I was confident).

“Ned who? Anyway, you don’t need to blaspheme or be nasty, you know. I’m trying to be friendly here and you have to get all ... vicious or whatever. Maybe if you turned to Christ instead of Jack Daniels, you’d be a happier person, you know. Just a thought, Dan. It beats going to Hell, you know,” Chrissy started humming some stupid hymn, much to my annoyance.

“Jack Daniels and Jim Beam are there when I need them. Jesus, on the other hand ... I gave myself to him, but he never calls,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood and failing badly due to the tough room.

“Will they be any comfort to you while in the fires of Hell, screaming and burning and smelling sulphur? What about when you’re left behind and having a choice between the mark of the Beast or the blade? Seriously, I’m trying to be friendly here, neighborly, and I know that you think that I’m a hypocrite and phony as much as you’re convinced that all religious people are, same with my husband, no doubt you sneer at me behind my back, but who’s clinging to booze for a crutch? Settling down and finding a good wife would do wonders for you, too, you know,” Chrissy preached a bit before catching herself while walking onto my porch.

“It’s not half the crutch for me as Jesus is for you, but, hey, I was a bit churlish there, so maybe we can start fresh for the day, okay? You were being nice and I am nursing a hangover, but then Jack and Jim never deserted me when I needed them most. Shall we shake hands and be friends here, as we are on social media. Just don’t ask for a donation or love offering or whatever,” I admitted that I had been a bit harsh and unnecessarily surly there.

“Very well, then. Good idea. Glad to see that you’re making an effort to be a good neighbor and civil and all that. What brought on the drinking this time? Another guy, another girl? Not to be too mean and mess up the fresh start, but how do you honestly expect to be happy if you’re trying to play both teams, if you will? God’s plan for men doesn’t include other men that way.

“When you send mixed signals about your sexuality to ladies, it makes them think that you fear commitment, aren’t husband material, if you will. How are you going to find Ms. Right if you spend half of the time drinking and the other half chasing dick ... sorry, bad language there, but you get the idea,” Chrissy asked me very baldly, blushing as she realized that she had cussed a bit.

“Um, well, bisexuality isn’t just a phase for me, but you’re welcome to your opinion. Anyway, you look a bit bored and thirsty ... and you’re close enough to the porch now that I must consider you my guest. Why don’t you come closer and we’ll laugh about the ray gun and its features a bit more. Some host I’ve been so far, arguing with you outside instead of inviting you in, even if I am still in my boxers, that is,” I waxed a bit facetious as I offered to let her come inside.

“Um ... that’s nice and neighborly of you, but maybe some other time ... when you’re not in your underwear. I don’t think that Jon would understand you ... and me being alone like that. It’s best to avoid even the perception of sin, as the Apostle Paul wrote, you know. Well, maybe you don’t know. But that’s how I’ve been taught. A godly Christian lady doesn’t go inside the house of a man other than her husband, not unless she wants people to get the wrong idea about her intentions. Thank you for the hospitality, though,” Chrissy suddenly got a bit nervous and started to back away.

That was when she lost her footing and I dropped my ray gun for a second to help break her fall, only to accidentally press a button on it. Suddenly, a long, red beam shot out of the barrel and zapped Chrissy just like that. I managed to pull her up, but her skirt was now hiked up a bit to her thighs, exposing more than a little leg in the process. I had to admit to myself that I enjoyed the view, of course. Whatever her faults, Chrissy’s thigh, smooth, mildly tanned thighs were very attractive to me at least. Was that a natural, farmer’s tan like my own or did she actually wear swimsuits now and then?

I wasn’t prepared for what came next, not in the least, as Chrissy, still in my arms, pulled me closer and planted a serious, fucking lip lock on me ... with tongue. I staggered back a bit, tried to steady myself, and even picked up the ray gun to set it down somewhere for the moment, but that was as far as I got. The next thing that I knew, Chrissy pushed me inside the front door of my own house, then pushed me to the floor of my own living room, and raised her skirt to slide her soaking panties down to the hardwood. She yanked my boxers down with her teeth, of all things, freed my thick, stiff cock, and planted her juicy twat on my dick to bounce up and down on me.

It wasn’t too much longer before Chrissy came, and then came ... and came some more. She creamed herself repeatedly, as if insatiable now. She rode me frantically, furiously, even, her slippery cunt engulfing my hard prick with the full power of her desire, even as her breasts popped out of her blouse and swung in front of my face. She said nothing, just silently bit her lip, ground her teeth, and impaled herself on me as if my cock were the last one left on Earth. She also peppered my face now with kisses, not to mention my lips, giving me enough tongue to feed a butcher on his lunch break. She clawed my neck and shoulders as well, drawing just enough blood to make it clear that she was in primal mating mode or something.

Finally, of course, a feral, guttural scream escaped Chrissy’s mouth in her crazed state, not that I minded any of this (despite being taken and thrown around like a rag doll, not an easy thing to do to a hefty guy like me). This short, plump, normally demure Christian housewife basically made me her bitch the first time around, though I fully intended to get to the bottom of things and take command myself soon enough. It was a nice change of status for once, from hunter to hunted for a guy who was used to doing all of the chasing, to have someone else pursue him at last. Her primeval aggression was a real shock to the system, but a pleasant surprise at least this once, and a respite from my routine as well as flattering as hell.

When Chrissy tightened up on me, of course, I had no more ability to restrain myself, and my balls churned out spurt after spurt of my seed through my cock into her pussy. Feeling this, Chrissy creamed herself one last time and collapsed on top of me, resting her lovely head of hair on my chest. We lay there like that, with the front door to my house wide open and both of us half-naked (my undershirt was essentially torn to shreds, but who was counting), for several more minutes before my guest arose, put herself on her knees in front of my dick, and opened her mouth to kiss and lick the head of my prick.