Hedges of overgrown privet surrounded the house except for a gap on this side, where they had rigged chicken wire on posts and had planted Morning Glories that were already vining up the wire. Susie understood their desire for privacy, having glimpsed much naked running around.
The voices she had heard came from three of them beyond the chicken wire. They were scraping the peeling paint off the house. Two girls and a fellow, wearing straw hats, shirts and shorts.
As Susie watched, the male member of the trio reached the handle of his paint scraper up between one girl's blue-denimed buttocks, and gave her a goose.
She screeched, whirled on him and made a grab at his crotch.
The three of them were laughing. Watching, Susie giggled.
He backed off. The other girl got into it, and they crowded him against the hedge, both girls snatching at the front of his shorts. He dropped his scraper and tried to fend them off with the palms of his hands, but feebly, helpless with laughter. Finally one of the girls got a handful of crotch bulge.
There were laughs, shouts, and the two girls went back to their paint scraping.
Like in high school, Susie thought, she and Ronnie, always grabbing crotches. But Ronnie had been her steady. Here two girls had gone at one man, and that sort of took her breath away.
What followed left her gasping.
Standing there talking to the girls – Susie could hear only echoes of their voices – the fellow unzipped his shorts, dug out his penis, and began to pee.
Both girls watched as a glistening stream of urine arced through the sunshine and spattered on the lawn.
Wow! Susie thought. One of the girls could be his wife or girl friend, but the other? What kind of a bunch were they? Did they live in heaps? Group-grope stuff?
She could see his prick clearly, a long one, and she reacted by slipping a hand in under the fold of her towel to the furriness of her pussy. She gave it a squeeze, found the inner surfaces of the lips were squishy. She thought, I do love guys! Meeting the right guy I feel flash blushes, find my ass wagging, and my panties get squirmy-moist in no time at all. Like it's only my husband who turns me off! Yet I married him because after just a glance at the big, handsome bastard my pussy juiced!
Now she heard one of the girl's voices distinctly, saying, "Howard, we know how big your cock is. Why do you have to show it off?"
They were laughing, and so was Susie, though she felt a tear in her eye, loneliness. How she wished she were one of those girls, teasing the fellow about displaying his prick!
While massaging her pussy, she tore the towel open and began pulling her nipples. And the longer she watched the three next door, the more her tugs and squeezes speeded. Were the people next door the cause of her spells of heat, the sensual upwellings that demanded masturbation?
Well, they made her think of Ronnie, and the carefree days with him, when their sexuality had been joyous, laughter punctuating the gasps and grunts of orgasm.
Susie bowed her legs, squeezing her pussy back and forth as she panted uphill toward her cum.
Brian arrived home late, a huge man filling the kitchen doorway. He had made it through college as a line-bucking halfback, and as an executive at the Helting Corporation he bulled his way up the ladder. He was dark and ruggedly handsome but his face was red. He had been drinking, Susie knew.
She gave him his martini cocktail and the wifely kiss on his cheek. He was sweaty. In her crisp yellow summer dress she did not want to press close up to him.
He gulped at the drink, then snarled, "That guy Clayton! The cocksucker tried to take over the Burkholtz account. I told the big boss that Clayton would bungle the fucker, give it to Brian boy, I'll make Burkholtz buy like our products are cheap at half the price."
"That's nice," Susie said, understanding none of it. Brian ranted a lot about office doings, but never explained. She only knew that Clayton was Brian's friend, that with his wife they often went to dinner as a foursome, but on the job the two men fought like jungle animals.
"Clayton blew his top when the big boss gave me Burkholtz. Called me a back-stabbing shit, and I laughed in his face. He even took off on you, saying, 'Your wife Susie, the way she wags her big ass…'"
"I haven't got a big ass," Susie said mildly, taking the roast from the oven.
Ignoring her, Brian went on, "'Wags it like she's hot pussy you can't satisfy, probably fucks the plumber and the gas-meter reader.' I mean, you can see how pissed off Clayton was, saying all that, and I told him she's frigid, got a cunt like a faucet rusted shut."
Biting her lip, Susie left the roast and poured herself a drink. She said, "You didn't really tell Clayton that."
"I'd had some drinks."
"You and he were drinking together, after work?"
"Who else? I had to smear it in his face, didn't I?"
"You could leave me out of it."
"Oh, fuck!" He refilled his glass. "In public you do that wiggly sexy shit, dance with Clayton, rubbing your belly all over him, can't blame him for thinking like that. But at home, shit. Then you're little Miss Dry-cunt, big round eyes surprised like she never saw a cock before."
He glowered at her, then lunged off toward the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt.
Susie blinked at tears. Brian was really wound up tonight. Had something happened besides the fight over the Burkholtz account? Like, if Clayton had made it with Brian's secretary – they seemed to battle that way, too.
She and her husband lived separate lives, that's all. After two years of marriage they were strangers.
She heard the shower go on. If she were part of that office life, she thought, they'd have things in common. But Brian would not let her hold a job.
He was not always this bad. Though, lately it had been worse between them, as though the new people next door were also affecting him.
Thinking of them, she found her fingers walking her skirt up and dipping into her panties. She opened her slit and nudged her clit. At least, Brian had not mentioned that tonight, how it grew out like a little boy's prick.
The pig!
If only he'll get stumbling drunk, she thought, and pass out, unconscious so he doesn't even know I'm in bed with him…
CHAPTER TWO
The evening went even better than Susie had hoped, Brian moodily silent, drinking beer as he watched the TV ball game, then going off to bed and a dead sleep. During the night he erected once, jabbed at her behind but apparently fell asleep again.
In the morning she got him off to work and sat drinking her coffee, smoking a cigarette, and wondering. She felt trapped. If she had a job, made some money to be proud of – but she was a house slave, hating the master of her life.
Do something! Something new!
With sudden decision she butted out the cigarette and rose, strode out the kitchen door.
She paused a moment in her yard, gazing at the overgrown hedges about the monstrosity old house next door, at the chicken-wire fence which Morning Glories grew, at the lattice gate beside the fence. She moved slowly toward the gate, unsure now, afraid she would be disappointed in the new neighbors. But what else had she? Every other woman on the block had a job.
She opened the gate and stepped inside. The new people had certainly been busy.
The overgrown yard was neatly mowed, and flower strips planted against the house. Out back a vegetable garden showed new green shoots. All very tidy.
She climbed steps to the roofed back porch and at the screen kitchen door called in, "Hello! I'm Susie from next door!"
She heard a girl's voice. "Come on in, Susie!"
Entering, Susie found a darkish kitchen with antique equipment, except for a big new automatic washer. A girl was about to dump an armload of wash into it. She had glossy, dark straight hair cut in bangs, and eyes like black velvet. She smiled dazzlingly over the mass of clothing at Susie.