Chapter 3

By the time he reached his place, the rain had begun to fall fairly hard. Pete scarcely noticed it, so engrossed was he by what he had just witnessed, so conscious was he of the condition of his underpants. As he moved up onto the front porch, he managed to grin and relax somewhat, which was probably a good thing because when he bent down to look through one of the tiny windows in the door and into the house, he saw Mary sitting on the sofa, nude from the waist up. She was not alone. Mark was very much still about the place. He was, in fact, standing directly in front of Mary, his prong out, very hard-looking and very definitely in Mary's mouth. Mary was sucking the man off. Pete blinked. This was something she rarely had done even to him, her husband.

"What a crazy night," he murmured softly. "The things I'm seeing this evening are just..."

He ceased murmuring momentarily because his wife had just grabbed Mark by the hips and pulled him down on top of her, all the while going down on the man's stiffened dick with a frantic, wild wantonness that astonished Pete. He watched her as she sucked Mark's prong with great relish.

"Must be he's got something I don't have," Pete murmured, smiling as an eerie excitement coursed through him. "Look at her gobble it up. Maybe I'd better go back to Cindy's. They sure don't want me here." And saying this softly, he crept down from the porch and walked swiftly away from the house and headed back towards Cindy's.

When he arrived there, he noted the lights were off in Cindy's house, but this didn't concern him too much. He tried not to glance at Rose's front windows for fear she might be sitting there in the dark looking out at him. He wondered what he would do if she were to dash out of the house and beg him to enter, as she had done before. Would he be willing to follow up a... dog? Pete shook his head and a moment later was astonished at the way his prick had grown hard.

"Maybe there's something wrong with me tonight," he muttered. "Or it could be I'm just having a hell of a fine time."

He was up the driveway of Rose's place even before he realized he had moved. He found the second window quickly and bent down to peer into the room.

"I'm getting to be a first-rate Peeping Tom," he murmured very softly. "Never thought I'd do a thing like this."

He could see a form under the sheet but could only guess that it was Rose. Probably it was. Hadn't Cindy said she lived alone? He grinned. Maybe it was the dog. Pete shook his head, wondering if he were going off the deep end or something and, shifting his weight a bit, he tapped lightly on the window. The form under the sheet -- the dim light was still on -- moved quickly and he saw Rose sit up on the bed, brush her long brown hair out of her eye and glance nervously about the room. She did not see him at the window, apparently, for a moment later she lay down, kicked the sheet off her body, pulled up her nightgown and rubbed her cunt gingerly.

Pete wanted to laugh but managed to hold it back. Rose's pussy undoubtedly itched because of the tremendous pounding and prodding it had recently taken from the stiff whang of the big dog. Should he tap on the window again and ask her to let him in? He no more than had the thought that he did exactly that-he tapped on the window loudly.

Rose covered her body in a flash and looked straight at the window. She got out of bed, holding the sheet around her and walked apprehensively to the window.

"Rose," he said through the crack of the window, "will you let me in, please?"

She jumped back from the window, her eyes wide.

"Rose," he said more loudly. "It's Pete. I just came back, saw the light on in the room and you on the bed. Let me in, will you?"

She nodded and ran from the room. His heart hammering now, he walked to the front of the house and waited for her to open the door. Finally she did so and he stepped up on the porch and entered. He instantly caught a whiff of her. She had bathed because she smelled clean and nice. There was, he thought, the scent of soap about her.

She surprised him by standing on her tiptoes and impulsively kissing his mouth. Then she broke away from him and turned her back, her hands dabbing at her eyes. He could see her shoulders shaking.

"What is it?" he asked guardedly. "What's wrong?"

She ran from the room, leaving him standing there in a state of perplexity. He waited for her to return, but she did not do so. His prick became stiff, for no apparent reason, and he crossed the room to look for her. It might be nice to have her suck him off. Surely she could do that, couldn't she?

He grinned and rubbed his stiffened cock through the cloth of his trousers. Something was making him unduly hot this night. He knew he should leave this house with its strange female occupant and go next door and waken Cindy to use his hard-on on her. That was where he should be, but there was something so fiercely intriguing about Rose that he found he could not move towards the door. He instead walked out of the room, entering the room Rose had gone to, and immediately saw her lying nude on the floor. There was no carpet, no rug, nothing beneath her but the hard wooden surface.

"You see, Pete," she said almost whimpering. "I've got my courage up for you. I'm ready to be man-fucked."

He pretended he didn't know what she meant specifically by the term "man-fucked".

"What did you say, Rose?" he asked, moving closer to her inert form on the floor.

"Don't talk... please? Get on top of Rose and stick in your stiff prick and take her. She needs to be fucked so very, very badly."

The hell you do. You've had it twice tonight, but not from a man. Before he could reply she was on her feet, her eyes flashing, the room being somewhat better lighted than when he had stared through the window at her.

"You don't want to fuck Rose? Is that it, Pete?"

"What's happened to you?" he asked, stalling for time. He didn't want to lay her but preferred that she go down on him. In fact, he was going to insist on this. "The other time I was here, you seemed not to want to do it. Now you're practically begging for it. I don't understand."

"I got over my foolishness," she said. She flopped on the bed, belly first.

He looked at her box from the rear and thought about how the dog had licked her and later fucked her as she lay on her back, her legs spread far apart. "Rose," he said. "I came back to have you suck me. If you don't want to do that, I'll leave again."

She flopped over on her back. "Don't you think I have an attractive enough body?" she asked.

"It's not that, Rose. You're a beautiful woman. You know that. It's just that I seem to have this urge to be sucked off. Can't you understand that?"

She nodded. "Yes, of course. Will you come closer to me, please, and let me kiss your cock?"

He became tremendously excited at hearing her say this. There was no question about it -- this was one of the most exciting women he had ever known. She had hangups, but who didn't? As he moved close to her, she reached out and took his prick daintily between thumb and forefinger, holding it at its base, and, leaning forward, planted a wet kiss on the head.

Pete nearly blew off. He wondered if she could feel the wetness of his drawers, if she could smell the spent sap he had shot when watching her fuck with the dog. Apparently, she hadn't noticed; at least she made no remark about it. She kissed the head again and ran her tongue lightly over it.

"Pete..." she said slowly, hesitantly. "I'm a very hot woman. I become so terribly passionate at times that I frighten myself."

He waited for her to go on, but she said nothing more then. Instead she kissed his quivering cock for the third time.

"Take it in your... mouth, baby," he urged. "You're driving me crazy."

"Oh, but I want to make you as hot as I am," she murmured. "I have to."

This irked him slightly. "How do you know I'm not?"

She paid no attention to his question. "Piss on me, honey," she begged. "Please piss on me."

Pete felt his scalp tightening. This woman, more and more, was sounding and acting as if she were not merely quirky but a mental case of some kind. He wondered if she really was or if he was letting his imagination get out of hand.

"Why," he asked, "do you want me to piss on you?"

"I want to be degraded," she confessed.

"But I don't want to do that. That's no thrill for a man. I want to shoot my jizz in you, not urinate."

She sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. Guess I'm kind of nuts. Will you forgive me for what I said?"

Pete felt better at hearing this. "Sure. Everyone gets carried away at times by passion. God knows I have often enough."

She kissed his cock again but did not take it into her mouth as he wanted her to do. "Tell me," she said. "What was the dirtiest thing you ever did?"

He frowned slightly. "I don't know, Rose. I don't dwell on such things." He knew the moment he said the words that he was sounding like a stuffed shirt, but he was damned if he would retract the sentence.

"Of course you don't, Pete." She paused briefly. "You know, I feel I've known you for a long time, but I haven't, have I?"

"I don't know. Only you would know that."

"Would you like to fuck me now, Pete?"

He hedged. "I'd like you to suck me off, baby. I told you that before."

"You don't want to fuck Rose?" Her brows had shot up.

"Certainly I do," he said. "But right now I want to be blown."

"Oh, if you put it that way, I don't mind doing it. It's the word 'suck' that turns me off for some reason."

"Really?" He could not for the life of him think of anything else to say to her at this precise moment. What the hell difference did a word make? Suck. Blow. Either one would do. Same difference.