My Neighbors Are Trouble: Lies

"Oh my god, did you see what she wore tonight?"

"I did!" A stiff chortle. "Who was the designer? Her dog?"

The laughter that erupts here is louder and collective. Elizabeth's friends delight in her joke.

I take another swig of my Tom Collins. A big one.

"So tell us, Lizzy, how's the new neighborhood?"

"Oh, it's absolutely lovely for the most part. I mean, you know the real estate is gorgeous and it's so much more secluded than where we were, I really feel like I can breathe, you know?"

"Yeah, and I'll bet the massive house and property help!" Vi teases.

Unabashed titters. Elizabeth swells visibly, feasting on the barely disguised jealousy of her peers.

"Never mind the house!" The one named Lilly shushes the rest. "What can you tell us about that sex party I heard happened in that neighborhood?"

"What?"

"Oh my god, Lilly!"

I freeze mid-swig.

"Shut up!" Elizabeth revs up. "Where did you hear that?"

"You mean you hadn't heard?" Lilly milked this moment to steal the spotlight. "Oh, I just assumed you would be the one with all the details!"

"Guess I'm out of the loop this time, girls." Elizabeth has always had a knack for playing off dings to her reputation. "I'll need a bit more time to get familiar with the lay of the land. Well, go on then, Lil'! Spill it!"

The women shuffle closer together, dying to hear every word. Their complete withdrawal from my proximity assures me my presence is neither considered nor desired. I wave to the bartender for a top off on my drink as I cock my ear toward the group, still keen to know what they knew.

Because I know... Mm, oh yes... I know...

A very sweaty memory flickers in the back of my head, but Lilly's voice snaps me back in place and time.

"Well, all I know is what I overheard from my hairdresser, Bobby. He was talking so loudly the other day about how many dicks he took at some mansion in Oakbridge a month or so ago."

"Really?" Dominique gasps. Her manicured curls flutter but do not break formation as she draws back, palm to breast.

"Ah!" Elizabeth intones knowingly. "We actually live in Oakbridge Falls, it's a little farther up. But honestly, I'm not surprised. Oakbridge is overrun with new money these days. There's bound to be some deviants among them."

Ha! Could a misheard neighborhood be my saving grace?

"So you really haven't heard anything?"

"Not a peep! But I'll ask around, now that I know there's a saucy little secret to ferret out!"

The ice in my now-finished second drink tinkles when my hand begins to shake. I put it down on the bar and walk away.

Shit! Now she's going to start asking around? She's going to fucking find out for SURE!

The final rays of the sun are scattering across the sky, illuminating brushstrokes of high-altitude clouds against the deepening indigo. I barely notice them as I stare blankly at the dark trees around the country club property from the expansive back porch. Per Elizabeth's instructions, strings of antique halogen bulbs were strung overhead to illuminate the outdoor space; bunches of different species of yellow and orange flowers were placed copiously along the railings and by the doors and windows. I suppose they look... aesthetic...

Lucky me, most of the well-to-do invitees to this benefit are milling on the other side of the porch and inside the banquet hall. I have this bit of railing to myself.

"Hey, sugar."

Goddamnit. Didn't last long...

"Hey, Nick..." I turn to my right, toward that voice that grates my gears into motion. "Please, can we just--" My voice seizes in my throat when I finally meet his gaze.

Nick -- I mean, Mr. Lavigne -- is impeccably dressed. Perfectly tailored black suit, a floral pattern flashing only when the light reveals the textural differences, and a powder blue shirt, open at the neck where a white silken ascot completes the look. He carries a martini in his left hand and is offering me a craft beer with the right.

I take it, still entranced by the way he is looking at me, his bushy black mustache cocked just so. The memory of his coarse bristles lavishing my asshole blasts through me like a gunshot. The icy chill of the bottle in my fingers initiates a shiver that feels more pleasurable than any normal shiver has a right to.

Mr. Lavigne tilts his half-empty martini glass toward me and I dazedly clink the rim with my bottle. As I sip, I see him finish the martini in one last gulp, pull the olive out on its stick and then casually toss the empty glass over the railing and into the tall grasses between the clubhouse and the woods.

"Hey!"

"What?"

"I--I don't know, just like... maybe don't litter the grounds?"

"Ha! You're cute, but don't act like you actually care about the cleanliness of the country club." The last words drip with sarcasm.

"Well... I--" I stutter. "I--I just d-don't think that the gardeners would appreciate catching glass when they mow the lawn.

Mr. Lavigne chuckles. "You got a point there, sugar."

"Ok, please," I beg in hushed, but urgent, tones. "Please, don't call me 'sugar' here!"

"Why not?" He siddles closer, sparing a glance at the crowd. "I can tell you like it." His eyes fall significantly to my tenting slacks.

I shuffle uncomfortably in a perverse catch-22 -- unable to fix my visibly growing erection without actually grabbing my awakening shaft, which would immediately lift me to full-mast anyway. Especially with Mr. Lavigne looming so close to me.

The smell of his body is rather spicy, with a hint of leather oil. I wonder absently if he's actually wearing that hefty harness beneath his suit. Here. At the benefit. With both of our wives gossiping over wine just inside the banquet hall.

"Come on, Charlie," he whispers. "Let's have a quick one!"

"No!" I hiss in reply. "Connie and Elizabeth are here!" But I also fail to step back from his slow, steady advance into my space.

His fingers graze my aching cock, trapped downward by the pants I refuse to adjust. My breathing becomes frantic and my eyelids flutter for a moment before I catch sight of a distant face turning idly in our direction. I leap back from his clutches rather suddenly, keen to not be seen so close to him. Glancing back at the crowd, the face is gone. Not that it was anybody I knew or that would know me...

... I hope.

"What's wrong, sugar?" Mr. Lavigne steps toward me, but I hold him up with a hand.

"I... I-I have to go find that glass..." I say feebly, turning and making a break for the stairs that lead down to the lawn.

"What?!" He ejects with a tone that mocks my escape attempt.

I make it the fifteen paces to the stairs and catch eyes with an older couple moseying up from the gardens.

"Good evening." The man says, placing his hand on his wife's back in that old-timey, patriarchal, possessive kind of way. She allows him to guide her away from me and demurely repeats his salutation.

"Evenin'." I reply with half-hearted politeness as I turn my steps off to the right, away from the gardens they came from.

I walk along the grass, skirting the deck, now a half-story lower. Glancing up to where I'd been standing with Mr. Lavigne, I see he's no longer there. I don't dare glance back to see if he's following me.

Holy shit, I've definitely let these last two months run away from me. After the orgy at Evan and Todd's, my life didn't explode, as I thought it would. But that weekend definitely did blow up my life in other ways.

Nicholas Lavigne, Esq. -- Elizabeth and family all called him "Nick" -- knew that he had me by the balls from that very day forward. Never once did he explicitly threaten to expose me or try to coerce me outright... but he always pushed the envelope; playing with danger in the half-shadows.

Not that I ever really succeeded in refusing him.

I learned that he was a regular at events like that one at my neighbors' house. He'd learned the term 'pansexual' a few years back. He liked it for himself. And, it was honestly interesting to hear him talk about how that understanding really opened up his own permission to explore his sexuality. But he was definitely cheating on his wife behind her back.

Obviously, I didn't judge... because so was I.

It started a week after the orgy, when we all attended the benefit in Connecticut for the orphan charity. Mr. Lavigne caught me in the urinals. The bathrooms at the back of that clubhouse were just large enough for two men and he was already in there when I came in.

I stopped dead when I saw him, but tried to play it off. He smirked, recognizing me as I settled into the urinal to his left. He finished while I was mid-stream, washed his hands in the sink, and then, just as I was shaking my dick clear, I heard him lock the door.

I looked over my shoulder in time to see him approach me directly. I turned to square off to him and was met with his hands on my body. He pushed my back up against the wall and instantly kissed me, hard and aggressive. He had me pinned with my pants still open and the tip of my cock still protruding from the slit in my boxers.

I was so shocked by it all, I had no time to protest or urge him to stop. And, by the time he wrapped his hand around my hardening cock, my own urge to stop was nowhere to be found.

I just moaned into his lips as he held me up against the wall and milked me for my cum. Waves of over-stimulation crested and fell over my body as he held me there and jerked me dry. My hands roamed the back wall for something to grab; finding nothing, they reached forward and fisted the cloth of Mr. Lavigne's suit jacket.

I tried to make myself refuse him, to use my grip to push him back; trying to think of my wife, trying to remember that I owed her my faithfulness... trying to not enjoy the dangerous play happening right there in the bathroom.

The trouble was, all I did was pull at his jacket. Pull at the warmth of his dominant body; grasp at his masculine presence and confident aura; open myself to his control.

"Mmmm," I bit my lip as he pulled the small of my back off the wall, arching my spine and jutting my rock hard cock farther out of the opening in my suit as he gave me a rough, domineering handjob.

"Gimme that good stuff, sugar." He growled into my ear, then nibbled the nape of my neck. The shockwave it sent down my body pushed me over the edge, and I bit my fist hard to keep from crying out as I came violently in Mr. Lavigne's arms. "Yeah, boy, that's it!"

"Uhhh..." I sighed, "Jesus fucking Ch--"

Mr. Lavigne cut me off by stuffing his fingers, covered in my own cum, into my mouth. I knew what to do with them. What I didn't know until then was how much being made to do it would turn me on.

I sucked those fingers bone dry, until he removed them, grinning. Then he released me from the wall and walked over to the sink to wash his hands again. I just stood there panting as he did it, barely finishing tucking my cock back into my boxers before he straight-up unlocked the door and pointed at the floor.

"Be sure to clean that up before you leave, sugar." Then he left.

I looked down and saw streaks of my cum; panicked, I looked back up only to see the door swinging on its hinges. I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and quickly smudged out the semen stains before closing my pants, checking my outfit in the mirror and leaving.

That was the first time.

The second time, he came over in the middle of the day for Elizabeth to sign some papers.

"What papers?" I asked.

"Just some things for her parents' wills."

"Oh, well she's not home just now."

"Damn, just missed her, did I?"

"No, she's away for her sorority's event or something..."

"You don't say..."

I was unconvinced that he didn't already know that. I mean, he never came for Elizabeth to sign things. That excuse was transparent as hell. But there was something... charming, disarming... about the way he looked at me in the doorway there.

"Fancy a beer?" I asked him.

Within half an hour, he was fucking me against the kitchen counter, our pants around our ankles and him yanking on my t-shirt for grip.

The sensation of his massive cock was already familiar by then. Don't get me wrong, it burned like a white, hot poker for a minute, but he'd leaned forward in those first moments and engulfed me in his weight, his warmth, his arms. Though I shook with shock at the stretch, his body grounded me and I was able to breath and relax and let him in.

He pistoned in and out of me slowly for a few turns before I nodded, silently signaling that he could give me more. I wasn't looking at him then, but I felt him grin with satisfaction as he bent me forward. I know because I did the same as I laid my palms on the countertop. He picked up the pace of riding my ass, using my shirt as reins; obedient to the will he communicated through them, I rocked backward to meet his thrusts, matching his every rhythm.

We fucked so hard that day that he actually tore through that shirt. It ripped loudly and the sudden exposure of my back in such a scandalous way brought my body to the brink of orgasm. Mr. Lavigne must have loved it too, because he pulled both ends apart and fully ripped it off my heaving body.

I screamed unabashedly as I came, my climax sparked by his passion to have me. My ass muscles clenched in time with the waves of my pleasure and intensified the friction around his cock, still begging for release inside me. Though my own orgasm faded, the continued drumbeat against my prostate felt like heaven's backyard. My mouth hung open and I'm pretty sure I drooled a bit.

When he finally came, it was like an earthquake and a firework both exploded behind my sex. He even lifted me off my feet as his body arched forward, filling me as deeply as possible. Holy shit, it was so fucking hot...

I cleaned the kitchen with bleach after that, and threw out the shirt in the outside dumpsters.

I've felt a lot of conflict since then. Obviously. I mean, I never thought I'd be a cheater. As much as Elizabeth and I don't get along anymore, should I really be sneaking around on her? And with men? And with a family friend? Who is also cheating??

Oh my god, the lie is just getting so fucking big! I think frantically now, as I am making my way through the shadow of the deck. This benefit is the first time that I'm seeing Mr. Lavigne since that day in the kitchen, not counting the dream or two I've had about him since. Oh, and that's actually the biggest complication for me...

WHY DO I WANT IT SO BAD?

Even now, catching a whiff of his scent excites me in ways I don't understand. I glance behind me. I can see no one. I pick up my pace, swig the beer still in my hand, and stride directly into the taller grass where Mr. Lavigne had tossed his glass.

Well, this is stupid... I think, reduced to groping around the stems and gravel since the light of the antique bulbs isn't exactly stellar way out here. Even the music seems distant, while the chirps of a thousand crickets nearly drown out my inner voice.

I don't know what I'm doing out here in the weeds and dirt. I've messed up so badly, maybe I just want to keep going. I straighten up and stare into the darkened trees that line the property. Armies of flickering fireflies seem to beckon me to an escape hatch. My feet shuffle forward and I come to lay a palm on the rough bark of the closest tree. The darkness here on the edge of the abyss is calming, steadying. I breathe.

A twig snaps behind me and I start at the sound. But I don't turn. I know who it is by the smell of his spiced musk. His hands snake around my torso and his gravelly voice tickles my right eardrum.

"You've run so far, sugar."

"Please, Mr... N-nick... Nick," I whisper, unable to keep my face from angling toward his. I shudder as my cheek meets the whiskers of his mustache. "Why here? Why do you have to do this to me in public?"

His hands begin to roam my chest and abs. I close my eyes, the blinking lights of the insects around me glitter in negative against my eyelids.

"You don't find the danger kind of fun?"

"No. I don't, actually." I start to sound firmer, but then... "I think we're playing with fire and we had better... b-better..."

Mr. Lavigne's left hand grips the now-rock solid bulge in my pants and is rubbing it slowly and firmly through the cloth. His right hand, having snaked up under my arm, grips my chin and angles my head away from his face, exposing my neck further to his onslaught of kisses and nibbles.

"Mmmmhhhh..." I hum as I begin to lose the battle to my own body. My sex drive has been humming ever since I heard his voice and is now running away with my control. My knees buckle and my back sinks into his impeccably dressed chest. The curves of his front fit snuggly into the forms of my back, and like a dew drop meeting another, our attraction seals us two into one for this reckless, daring, absolutely unsanctioned moment of desire. "N- Nick... N-Ni..."

"Ah ah ah," he corrects in my ear.

"Mr. Lavigne, please..." I say, rolling my head and shoulders to drink in and mull the feeling of him possessing my body.

"'Please' what, Charlie?"

"Please... just... just promise we'll be quick, ok?"

He chuckles deeply -- wickedly -- into my neck skin. "I promise, baby." A rough suckle at my neck. "Don't move."

And quickly, his fingers began to deftly unbutton my shirt from behind me. My breathing quickened with each released button, as more of the night forest air met my bare flesh. When he finished, he pulled the ends out of my waistband and immediately unbuckled my belt and opened my pants down to the fly. My cock was so engorged and aching to be touched that it was already poking out of the waistband of my boxer briefs.

"Mmmm, sweet, sweet sugar," he growls as he reaches in and grabs me in his fist.

"Unnnhhh," I moan out into the dark woods. The crickets seem to sing louder, providing extra cover. I bite my lip to control my voice but the rest of me completely slackens, relinquishing even my battle with gravity to Mr. Lavigne's intoxicating strength.

He begins pumping my cock and I'm immediately driven mad by the friction on my cockhead. I squirm in his clutches, but his arms tighten and he holds me fast. I can finally feel his own hard cock pushing at my ass through our pants. The moment I notice it, I subconsciously grind into it.

"Mmmm... fuck yeah." He hums his approval into my ear. The sound is like fuel for my fire.

One hand continues jerking me while the other roams my abs, chest and nipples. I receive a powerful twist and suck a gasp through my teeth, a shockwave passing from the nipple to my prostate. I can feel Mr. Lavigne's hand become slick on my cockhead as pre-cum begins dribbling from my urethra.

"Unh, unh, unh..." I am losing the ability to stay quiet.

My hands begin to roam Mr. Lavigne's burly form behind me. His thighs are boulders and sturdy as they hold me up while he has his way with me. I draw my reverse palms upward and find my prize... I mean!...

Unhhh... fuck this feels so good...

... I mean...

Ah!! Holy shit... unh, holy... holy...

Suddenly, he pushes me forward, gripping my shirt and jacket so they catch on my wrists, turning my own suit pieces into unexpected bondage. He twists the clothes tight and locks me in, bent ninety degrees at the waist with my arms stretched behind and above me. My now fully nude torso shivers in the chill and my arm muscles scream with the shock of discomfort.

The realization that I've been essentially hog-tied doesn't distress me as much as I thought it would. With one hand, Mr. Lavigne reaches to the open flap of my pants, grabs my belt by the buckle and pulls it free in one motion. The pants loosen further and slide down my legs a way.

Fuck! Why do I find that so hot?? My cock stretches to its limits and I can see more drops of pre-cum fall to the ground, glinting in the faint light of the bulbs on the distant porch. Blessedly, the darkness is holding fast around us, though I am admittedly unconcerned.

The rush of danger is like a crazy drug. All it would take is for someone to come to the railing we'd been standing at just minutes ago and squint a way into the woods. And here I'd be, half naked and in a most compromising position indeed.

But no one comes. No one sees. No one cares to look. There is an unexpected release in that realization.

Mr. Lavigne duck walks me forward a few paces toward the trunk, then hooks the belt to the bundle of clothes that held my wrists and the other end to a low-hanging branch on the tree. I'm in such a state of aroused shock that I can no longer think of how to protest. I no longer think I want to.

Here in our own set of shadows, Mr. Lavigne and I can be safe from prying eyes. Here, we can just be two men having a quick fuck. Here, under the dark leaves and shielded by the sounds of woods, was our place to be free. Here, only he sees me like this; only he knows me like this.

I feel rough fingers pull the waistband down my cheeks; the night air makes my sphincter pinch and shiver. And as his lips, tongue and mustache start to caress and scrape at my asshole, for the first time, I dare to allow myself a grin of pleasure.

"MMmmffffmmm mmmfffmfmffmmm," Mr. Lavigne savors my body like it's the final course of the night's meal.

"Mmmm," I moan softly, leaning my cheek against the rugged bark of the tree. "Uhhhhhh, yeah... fuck yeah... eat that ass..."

Mr. Lavigne backs off a few inches and loudly spits a glob onto me, then resumes his work. My tongue hangs out of my mouth as I savor his attentions, I run my lips gratingly against the trunk, desperate for a mouth to kiss, for a dick to suck... Desperate for any sense of agency, actually, since my hands are going numb in their imprisonment behind and above my back; but my cock aches from the excitement his control over me produces.

Another loud spit lands on my asshole and I feel his fingers enter, pushing it inside me. I've never fucked without lube before and I fear the pain. But as he stretches me in preparation, he also expertly begins stimulating my prostate.

"AH! Ah! AHH!" I call out.

"Yeah-hah-hah..." he croons. "Open up that tight hole for me, boy..."

"Mm! Mm! MM!" The pre-cumming is out of control. I can feel it hitting my thigh as it drips.

Another loud spit and I can tell Mr. Lavigne is coating his cock; he loses no time before he pushes the head up against my entrance. Suddenly -- in a way I never expected -- the whole world, the country club, the crickets, my wife, his wife... everything vanishes in a whoosh of calming silence as his cockhead breaks into me. My body responds with relish and experience, and I feel my hole widen to accept his intrusion.

"Ooohohoho..." Mr. Lavigne growls. "Fuck you're tight."

"Mmmmhhhh..." is all I can manage.

He pushes more, mercilessly pressing his advantage. My biceps pull and strain against the cloth holding my wrists. My fists twist and flex in their prisons, unable to reach out and grab hold of the trunk to push myself back and meet his cock; unable to grab his hips and force him deeper; unable to wrap around my own shaft and jerk myself to orgasm.

The friction within my anus is unquestionably greater than the other times. I make a note to myself about the importance of lube... but also how fucking hot it is that we're not even waiting to have some. Once again, the flame of my arousal is fueled by this man's animal desire to have me, to fuck me whenever he pleases...

"Oh fuck, baby, that tight little ass is so fuckinggggg sweet!" He says as I feel his bush meet my ass cheeks.

"Unhhhh," I moan. "Oh fuck! Mr. Lav... Mr. Laviiii..." I lose the ability to speak as he pulls back, the length of his cock burning hot stimulation over my unlubricated canal.

**SLAM**

"AHHHHH!!" I scream.

He chuckles.

**SLAM**

"UGHHHHHH!"

"Shhhhhhhh, baby!" He soothes.

**SLAM**

"OHHHH!"

His hand reaches up and covers my mouth, as he picks up the pace. I whimper uncontrollably into his palm as he grips me by the hip with the other hand. We begin to rock together as he pulls and yanks my body over his massive, spit-covered cock.

The pain stings, but the pressure on my g-spot continues to rewire my brain.

"Fuck yeah, boy. Fuck! That ass is mine, all mine..." He mutters as he fucks. "I'm gonna fuck you whenever I want, do you understand me?"

Tell me why I nod, so obedient... so submissive...

"I'm gonna fuck you in your house any time I want, right?"

I nod into his grip on my mouth.

"I'm gonna fill you with cum and you're going to keep it in all night, understand?"

I nod against the tree bark, feeling it scrape my temple as I do.

"You're just my cumwhore now, got it?"

"Uh huh..." I whine through his fingers. "Yes-s-s-s-s-s-sir...." the S lengthening in the rhythm his hips are beating against my body.

My arms have long since gone completely numb. My extended state of prone submission is becoming normalized and my body is relaxing into the stretch, into the exposure. My cock and balls swinging freely in the night air, the nakedness of my body, being so roughly used -- all feed a rush of eroticism I've never known before. I am becoming one with this version of me; I can feel how much I love it; my body is willing itself open to Mr. Lavigne's insatiable masculinity. The pain of the lubeless friction is dissipating and I find myself giggling and vocalizing my pleasure at being taken like a whore in the night.

It feels, at once, completely foreign and also so very right.

"That's right, Charlie," his thrusts are becoming frantic and quick. He must be getting close. "You're fucking mine!"

"Mhm," I agree, high-pitched and slutty. "That ass is all yours, Mr. Lavigne." And it all comes spilling out. "You can have that ass whenever you want. Unh! Unh!!"

"Oh fuck, baby, I'm getting close!"

"Give me that cum, sir!" I can feel my own climax building in my untouched cock. It's a strange, unfamiliar sensation. A pressure is building behind my bladder, a pressure that feels like an over-saturated reservoir pushing on a crumbly damn. It feels dangerously like Mr. Lavigne's cock is about to force me to piss myself right here!

"W--Wait!" I try to pipe up.

"Mmm fuck, oh fuck, I'm getting close," he's in a frenzied trance and can't seem to hear me. "Oh fuck, so sweet, that's it... thaaaat's it, baby..."

"Wait, Mr. Lavigne... N-Nick... I'm gonna piss myself!"

He chuckles. "No you're not."

"Ugh! Ugh!" Is all I can moan as the pressure grows unbearably and I try to clench to prevent disaster.

"You won't piss, just trust me!"

"Ahh! Ahh!" I can barely bring myself to respond. "But... but...!"

"Just trust me, baby!" His body begins shuddering and his pace crescendos to its quickest yet. "Let it go, babe, just let it go!"

Sparks are gumming up the works in my brain. I feel 98% the way to climax, but disturbed by this urge to pee.

"Just let it go..." He still pants behind me. "Just let it go..."

And then finally -- I do.

As though releasing my bladder after a long car ride, I relax my internal muscles and stand in bent-over wonder as the feeling of cum being literally beaten out of my balls and prostate crashes down through the core of my cock. Copious, watery semen flows freely from the tip, greater every time Mr. Lavigne bottoms out inside me.

"AaaaaaAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAooooooOOOOOoooOOOoooh..."

I have never cum hands-free before. Never. I have never cum this much before. Never. Never this hard. Never this exposed. Never this good.

Never.

And it doesn't stop! I am trapped in a permanent, euphoric flex as Mr. Lavigne pistons his final thrusts into my ass and finally unleashes a massive load.

"GGYYYYOOOORRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!" He roars into the night. His massive cock pulses with the shots of cum, so strong and so deep that I practically feel them strike against the walls of my colon.

Something about knowing and feeling him fill me up finally pushes me over the final edge, and as he lunges his weight forward into me, my orgasm finally explodes, sending my head spinning and my knees buckling as the final satisfying stores of semen are cannoned out of my cock and onto the tree. I am left shaking like a leaf from head to toe and struggling to breathe.

Mr. Lavigne's cock leaves me quite suddenly. I feel my arms released and the pins and needles rush into my muscles; but I haven't the moment to shake them out because Mr. Lavigne grabs me and pushes my back up against the tree. He falls to his knees, still pinning me with his massive hand to my chest, and sucks my spent cock into his mouth, licking it clean of all the residual cum. Then he moves quickly to my thighs, where drops and streaks had landed from my extended orgasm. I shiver, shake, and grip his hair as his lips and tongue savor the flavor of my spunk and clean my skin of the evidence of our illicit tryst. His laps and kisses tickle and soothe my post-climax hypersensitivity.

He snakes up my body and replaces the hand pinning me with his full mass. His half-deflated cock nestles against mine, but it's the only part of him that lacks clothing; the contrasting feel of my near complete nakedness against the silky embroidery of his suit jacket enhanced the erotic way I now felt wielded and used.

He kisses me deeply, possessively. His hand touches my elbow and raises my arm above my head, exposing my pit. Despite my state of undress and exposure to the air, my skin beads with perspiration, and under my arms, I surely smell of body odor and exhaustion.

"Unnnmmmmhhh!" I shiver and moan gutterally when he shoves his nose deep into the dark tuft of hair and takes a luxurious inhale. The grit of his mustache and five o'clock shadow scrape my sensitive pit skin and I'm surprised at how arousing it is. My gaping asshole twitches.

He sucks and nibbles my nipple then returns to my face to kiss me. I return it even more passionately than the last.

"Remember," he speaks to me close, our noses touching, one hand holding the back of my neck and the other palming my bare ass cheek. His middle finger reaches into my crack and flicks my hole, playing with the cum still coating the outside. "Keep that load until you get home, sugar."

"I promise," I say quietly, jutting my chin out just enough to catch his lips with mine.

"Good." He says. Then he tucks his cock back into his pants, straightens his jacket and flicks his hair back into place before turning on his heel and walking back out of the shadows. He pauses for a moment, stoops down to the ground and picks up something that glints in the glow of the bulbs. "Found it!"

I giggle as I wave in acknowledgement and then watch him walk back to the stairs leading up to the clubhouse porch.

Only then do I finally look down at my body -- stark naked down to the underwear and pants bunched around my ankles. My shirt and jacket are still caught around my wrists, preventing my hands from doing anything, and my belt is still hanging from the branch overhead.

Laughter erupts from the distant party-goers. The sun is officially gone and the nighttime around me is complete. I rely on it to step behind from the tree and dress. My shirt and jacket are excruciatingly wrinkled, my shoes are all scuffed, and there's a tear in the crotch of my pants.

The washroom, where I'll be able to straighten up (literally) is on the other side of the building, but accessible by walkway. So, I turn left and make my way.

The feel of Mr. Lavigne's body -- close to mine, manipulating mine, fucking mine -- sits so vicerally at the forefront of my mind as I walk...

... so much so that I have to veer off into the trees once more and rub out a second load of the night. I reach a finger between my legs and push it easily past my sphincter, aided and abetted by the jizz Mr. Lavigne so generously left me with. I think about the force of his thrusting as I bring my eager cock right to the edge and then paint another tree with the dregs of spunk left in my ballsack.

Far from considering the betrayal to my wife, I rejoin the party and kiss her on the cheek, flush with vigor and anticipation for the next time I can sit on Mr. Lavigne's massive, delicious, dominant cock.

I am now... after all... his.