Chapter 1

He had thought about it innumerable times in the last several months, trying to figure out what was happening to him when he was in bed with Evelyn, but short of going to a head-shrinker and laying bare his whole life, while lying on a couch answering all kinds of personal, penetrating questions, Fred Holden wasn't able to come up with any substantial answers. Somehow they seemed to evade him, no matter how hard he concentrated on the problem. It just seemed to happen, and he couldn't do anything about it. He had tried a lot of different things, but the one thing he did know for sure was that he wasn't really impotent... And, as far as going to a head doctor, well forget it. He wasn't about to do that, yet.

Seated in the spare bedroom of their apartment, which Fred used as a study, he was trying to run down a column of figures on his adding machine. He was moonlighting, which consisted of running monthly audits for several small, independent businesses, a couple of service stations, a neighborhood grocery store, a dentist and a pet shop. He worked damned hard at his regular job then spent two or three nights every week doing more of the same thing for these small outfits.

He made a stupid mistake, transposing some numbers, and he cleared the machine, corrected the error and leaned back away from his desk in his swivel chair, listening to his portable radio, turned up to drown out the sounds of the television set in the living room. Evelyn was there listening and watching while some insipid singer-comedian went through his studiedly relaxed routines. He couldn't stand to watch that particular program, and he was glad that he could sequester himself in his office on the evenings when that one was aired. What he would like to do was get a little portable set; then he could watch what he liked, such as some of the detective series or a talk show or two. There were some other things he liked to watch, too, but they weren't broadcast on T.V.

Looking at his wristwatch, he saw that it was a little after ten-thirty. It was a little early, but maybe--just maybe--he'd be in luck tonight. A little smile of anticipation creased his round face, and he heaved his short, muscular frame out of his soft chair. Going to the south window, he gingerly drew back the drapes, and being careful to stay well back from the sill his eager eyes sought the window of the apartment below and slightly to the left. He was looking down directly on the bed, sheets and covers turned back for occupancy, but he was disappointed. The young couple weren't on the bed, yet. "Damn!" he growled to himself. He'd have to wait. His eyes shifted to the bathroom window. Sometimes they were as careless about keeping that window closed as they were the one in the bedroom. Well... I'm in luck! The light was on in the bathroom, and the window was open... but the only way he could see into his neighbor's bathroom was to be in his. Well, hell... he'd done that before, too.

In his own bathroom, a second or two later, the door securely locked, Fred stepped into the bathtub, opened the window and standing on tiptoe looked down into the similar cubicle of the ground-floor apartment in the next building.

"Christ!" He was disgusted. All he could see was the slimly muscular body of the young husband. The man was facing him and was just entering the shower, his dark chest hairs contrasting with white skin, and below, the extreme hairiness of his loins almost obscured the flaccid tube of his penis hanging down softly against the longer, slightly reddish scrotal sac with its large egg-shaped testicles swinging easily below.

Fred wasn't interested in watching a naked man take a shower; although he had watched that same man make love to his wife, and he knew that the guy was virile, potent and had staying power that wouldn't quit. It was the guy's young wife he wanted to see. Damn! She's a luscious little piece! He wasn't even sure what her name was, but he thought their last name was Pearson. He was just about ready to step back out of the bathtub and go back to work when he saw her.

She drifted into his view shrugging off a light dressing robe. Fred's brown eyes widened, the pupils flaring as he watched her hang the robe on the door, the soft, round orbs of her beautifully sculpted buttocks working as she kicked off her mules. God damn! How he'd love to get his hands on her, his fingers digging into those twin mounds of warm, smooth, alabaster-white flesh. He could almost feel it in the palms of his hands as he watched; then, she turned and was facing him. Her breasts, full and round, were placed high and wide-spaced on her chest, the nipples pouting upward and the pink areolas looked almost like round bullseyes. The rest of her was equally fetching. She had a nice face with regular features, good, even, white teeth, a sensuous mouth, and she was golden blonde all over. Fred's eyes zeroed in on the spun-gold mound of pubic hair framed by slightly wide but curvaceous hips, and he felt his penis, below, inside his pants, come to pulsingly vibrant life. He thrilled as blood pumped into it to be trapped there, the tumescent rod of his cock throbbing with the urgency of his sexual need. His scrotum worked, pulling his balls up tight and achingly toward his crotch.

That's what confused him. He could get a hard erection watching his neighbor's wife undress in the bathroom... but when he got into bed with Evelyn, his own wife... Hell! Half the time I can 't even get a hard-on!

... And, it wasn't that Evelyn was an ugly witch, either. She was every bit as desirable as that sweet, young thing next door. There was just something that turned him off when he tried to make it with his wife. It wasn't that she didn't like it. Evelyn was different from a lot of men's wives he knew about: Like the ones who always had a headache... or demanded some special favor or gift... or who cynically, even perhaps sadistically, limited their husbands sex demands by making themselves sexually unattractive. He thought about the too-fat wives he knew and the ones with caustic tongues, as well as the constant-complainers... But, hell, that's not Evelyn at all. She likes to fuck... maybe too much! Actually, Fred Holden was closer to an insight into what was happening between him and Evelyn than he'd ever be, but unfortunately he didn't recognize it, didn't pursue the idea far enough. In the apartment's bathroom next door, the lovely, young wife opened the shower door and stepped into it with her husband. "Damn it!" again. There was nothing to be seen for a while. Turning he stepped out of the bathtub and flushed the commode; then, he left the room and went back to his desk. The television set in the living room was still going, and he assumed that Evelyn would be there for another half-hour or more; of course, she knew better than to disturb him while he was working. He had made that damned clear to her, several months ago... right after they were married.

Evelyn was Fred's second wife. The main reason he had taken on these accounting jobs that he did at home at night was so he could keep up his alimony payments. That God damned shrew is too smart to get married, again! All she thinks about is money... and she's getting it! Plenty! Fred felt he had been taken to the cleaners when he'd been hit with alimony payments of over seven- hundred dollars a month. It had taken several stormy sessions in Carol's lawyer's office before he had gotten it reduced to a more comfortable figure, five-hundred and fifty dollars per month. Then, when he'd married Evelyn there just wasn't enough money to go around, so he was moonlighting. He didn't want to spend his evenings grubbing for extra money, but there didn't seem to be any other way to meet expenses. The worst part of it was that prices kept right on going up, the inflation eating away at his salary to the point where he was thinking of taking on a couple more accounts. Christ! If I have to do that... pretty soon I'll be working four or five nights every week!

Glumly, he sat back down at his desk, conscious of his still throbbing erection, straining against the front of his trousers, his hand going down to caress the turgid length of his cock and smiling with the secret knowledge that he sure as hell wasn't impotent as Evelyn regularly accused him of being. He toyed with an idea: What I ought to do is walk in there, turn that damned TV set off, haul her out of her chair, throw her down on the living room floor... and fuck hell out of her... so she knows she's really been had! Something kept him from carrying out the idea, though. Maybe it was the memory of how Carol had rebuffed him so many times, putting him off with vapid excuses... until one day he'd tried it. He manhandled her... forced her--raped her actually--fucking the ass off her, while she fought him like a wounded tigress. It had been a costly mistake. After a visit to her lawyer the next day, she insisted that he move out because she was divorcing him.

He sat there at his desk for several minutes, trying to force himself back to the drudgery of those endless columns of figures, but after a few desultory attempts at reconciling some of the entries, he gave up as a lost cause. Reaching into his desk drawer he brought forth a small pair of binoculars, rose from his chair and went to the window, again.

Things were going to start happening down there in his neighbor's bedroom. He saw that the young husband was stretched out to his full length on the white bedsheets, his cock hardening rapidly. Fred still couldn't see the man's lovely, blonde wife, yet. She was in another part of the bedroom, hidden from his view. Now, the husband was reaching down to grasp the shaft of his penis, holding it aloft. His mouth was moving, but Fred couldn't hear his words; he could only imagine that he was making a lewd invitation.

She was there, then, crawling up on the bed beside him and rolling over on top of her husband. Fred saw her white, tapering thighs part then close again, and he knew that she had captured the stiffening shaft of her husband's prick, holding it tight between her clamped-together thighs.

Using the binocular, he brought the scene into sharp focus, almost as clear and large as though he were there in the room with them. This's the best damned investment I've ever made! He watched their mouths meet and meld, and he imagined the sucking, nibbling and the intertwining of tongues in the deep, open-mouthed kiss; then, as he swept the glasses over the smooth whiteness of her back to the nipped in waist and the curving flare of her hips, he saw the slight undulations of her buttocks and knew that she was grinding her warmly moist furrow up and down the length of her husband's massively erect cock. Below, Fred felt the involuntary lurch of his own aching hard-on, his hand going into a pocket to shift the shaft of his turgid prick to a more comfortable position, and with gentle fingers he caressed the length of it, debating with himself whether he should or shouldn't. Several times lately, as he'd watched the copulating neighbors, he'd masturbated while he watched them. It gave him a measure of satisfaction, but he didn't really like to do it; it seemed such a waste to him, especially when he could have been getting all the fucking he could handle with his wife, Evelyn. It's damned strange that I can't get it up with her! Maybe... it's because she's so eager for it... always letting me know that she's hot for it... and coming after me! Christ! I don't know... she's so aggressive sometimes! Again, a truth was dogging him, but Fred didn't recognize it when he saw it. What he knew for sure was: My cock just lies there limp as hell!... And, even if I do get it about half hard... it'll just curl up and die on me!

... And, now as he watched, his own excitement mounting, he saw the young wife slithering down over her husband's chest, her mouth kissing his flat belly. Lower and lower she moved, until she was kneeling between his wide-spread legs, her hands busy, one caressing his ball-filled scrotum, while the other held the thick length of his cock's shaft. Then, her smiling lips were coming down to the throbbing head of it as her tiny hand retracted the loose folds of the foreskin to reveal the reddish satin of her husband's cock's head. Damn! She's going to suck him, tonight! Fred's cock jerked involuntarily with erotic excitement against the confining cloth of his shorts and pants, and his hand went down there again to soothe and fondle.

He was thinking about Evelyn, again. Maybe it would be a good idea to take his throbbing erection into the living room... and make it with her there. Without any rough stuff, though; just a nice, smooth seduction with the fucking taking place on the couch or the floor. Any place but the bedroom!... But, he couldn't tear himself away from the sex show going on in the apartment below.

The young blonde had her husband's prick in her mouth, now, and Holden let his imagination roam, trying to envision what it would feel like to have that delicious tongue swirling around the head of his cock. It was hard to hold the binocular steady with one hand, and he stopped his unconscious stroking of his own penis, intent upon watching the other man's hard shaft as it was absorbed deeper into his wife's mouth. With both hands holding the glasses now, he watched the golden blonde head bean to bob slowly up and down the turgid length of it, the binocular giving him a close-up view of everything that was happening.

He saw tiny, pink flanges of her inner lips pulled out, glistening with droplets of moisture, on the upstroke; then, they were stuffed back inside, her lips rolling inward as they nibbled their way back down to absorb almost all of her man's cock on each downward bob of her head. Her eyes were closed; her face serene, and the spun-gold of her hair was cascading down over her husband's hairy thighs. Then he noticed that the young man was flexing his hips, driving his massive cock even deeper up into his wife's ovalled lips.