The Neighborhood Chapter One: This Is Us free porn video
We were four recent, white (and broke) college grads who met when we all started work as IT consultants in a middling-sized firm downtown. Josh, Paul, Randy and I (I’m Bill) saved money by finding a house to rent together. The place would never win any architectural awards, and we decided the plumbing was probably out of the 19 th century. Four bedrooms, three baths, a backyard with a patio, and, as they say, location, location, location. It came with a neighborhood to die for.
The whole thing was gated and entry was limited to those over the age of eighteen. Even the convenience store clerks had to be eighteen. Did I forget to mention that the entire neighborhood was clothing optional? That, of course, did not influence our decision to rent the house. Well, at least not much.
Except for Paul, most of us were pretty ordinary-looking. Paul was six-three, swimmer’s build, dark hair and never had to work out. Five-foot-nine Randy, blond and fit, worked out religiously. The girls still flocked to Paul. Josh was a red-head, five-ten, and a bit stocky. Me, I’m five-eleven, eminently forgettable brown hair, and an even more forgettable average body. We ranged in age from 22 to 24.
None of us displayed any symptoms of hypogonadism. That’s a fancy word for “testosterone deficiency.” We fucked our way through everything in a skirt, everything that owned a skirt, and everything that could spell skirt in seven tries or less. OK, maybe eight. Or nine. Some girls just deserve extra chances. After six weeks we had all acquired steady girlfriends. Not that we were looking for love, but it beat the shit out of nightly quim-hunting and muff-trapping in the local bars. And it was infinitely better than buffing the banana every night.
Paul, of course, got the beauty queen. She was statuesque – just half an inch shorter than Paul, - black as midnight and had a smile that rivaled a supernova. Lucy worked as a financial advisor in her uncle’s firm downtown. She was so much smarter than any of us that we were afraid to make a pass. Not that Paul would beat the crap out of any of us (we hoped), it’s just that we were intimidated. I once asked her how her day was going; “Felicitously and riant,” she replied. I told her I was sorry but I had an urgent need to consult a dictionary.
Veronica was dating Josh. She was a little shorter than Josh, had short hair to match his, and worked in an adult bookstore. Wow! She worked with porn! Josh begged her to find another job. By the end of each work day she was so desensitized to sex that most nights she shut Josh down in favor of studying a recipe book.
Randy had met Barb at a local gym. He asked her once why she didn’t enter body-building contests.
“Because,” said the five-foot-three blonde, “I only go to the gym hoping to see naked guys.” Randy was deeply in lust.
My girlfriend, Sonja, worked for her uncle. Just like Lucy. Except Sonja was mostly white and part Japanese, not to mention a little plump and five-eight in heels. And her uncle was a police lieutenant with our city’s finest. The first time we had sex she said she was pleased. Just pleased? I felt humiliated.
“Well, the last guy who failed to please me is waiting for somebody to post bail. My uncle had him arrested on suspicion of felony failure to return a library book on time.” I was afraid to ask if she was joking.
At least one of the girls was at our place every night. The first evening Barb visited she put up a sign on our patio: “Pants-Free Zone.” Who were we to argue with a body-builder? Anyway, we had all just spent four years in college dorms that may as well have had the same sign tacked up on the door. As soon as we were inside the house we all stripped to our underwear. Except for Josh, of course. He had usually stripped on the way in at the convenience store when he stopped for a pack of cigarettes. Barb approved.
In fact, Sonja and Lucy really approved. Veronica said we could all go naked or wear tuxedos, it made no difference to her. On hearing that I announced that I didn’t own a tuxedo, and stripped naked on the spot.
“Put that little thing back inside,” Sonja told me. “It might get cold. I prefer my sausage warm.” I dutifully put my tighty-whiteys back on. I was addicted to Sonja’s sausage sampling and didn’t want to meet her uncle.
Anyway, that’s us. Four horny guys with four hornier girlfriends. All in a clothing-optional neighborhood. Whatever could happen?
Well, that’s another chapter.
The whole thing was gated and entry was limited to those over the age of eighteen. Even the convenience store clerks had to be eighteen. Did I forget to mention that the entire neighborhood was clothing optional? That, of course, did not influence our decision to rent the house. Well, at least not much.
Except for Paul, most of us were pretty ordinary-looking. Paul was six-three, swimmer’s build, dark hair and never had to work out. Five-foot-nine Randy, blond and fit, worked out religiously. The girls still flocked to Paul. Josh was a red-head, five-ten, and a bit stocky. Me, I’m five-eleven, eminently forgettable brown hair, and an even more forgettable average body. We ranged in age from 22 to 24.
None of us displayed any symptoms of hypogonadism. That’s a fancy word for “testosterone deficiency.” We fucked our way through everything in a skirt, everything that owned a skirt, and everything that could spell skirt in seven tries or less. OK, maybe eight. Or nine. Some girls just deserve extra chances. After six weeks we had all acquired steady girlfriends. Not that we were looking for love, but it beat the shit out of nightly quim-hunting and muff-trapping in the local bars. And it was infinitely better than buffing the banana every night.
Paul, of course, got the beauty queen. She was statuesque – just half an inch shorter than Paul, - black as midnight and had a smile that rivaled a supernova. Lucy worked as a financial advisor in her uncle’s firm downtown. She was so much smarter than any of us that we were afraid to make a pass. Not that Paul would beat the crap out of any of us (we hoped), it’s just that we were intimidated. I once asked her how her day was going; “Felicitously and riant,” she replied. I told her I was sorry but I had an urgent need to consult a dictionary.
Veronica was dating Josh. She was a little shorter than Josh, had short hair to match his, and worked in an adult bookstore. Wow! She worked with porn! Josh begged her to find another job. By the end of each work day she was so desensitized to sex that most nights she shut Josh down in favor of studying a recipe book.
Randy had met Barb at a local gym. He asked her once why she didn’t enter body-building contests.
“Because,” said the five-foot-three blonde, “I only go to the gym hoping to see naked guys.” Randy was deeply in lust.
My girlfriend, Sonja, worked for her uncle. Just like Lucy. Except Sonja was mostly white and part Japanese, not to mention a little plump and five-eight in heels. And her uncle was a police lieutenant with our city’s finest. The first time we had sex she said she was pleased. Just pleased? I felt humiliated.
“Well, the last guy who failed to please me is waiting for somebody to post bail. My uncle had him arrested on suspicion of felony failure to return a library book on time.” I was afraid to ask if she was joking.
At least one of the girls was at our place every night. The first evening Barb visited she put up a sign on our patio: “Pants-Free Zone.” Who were we to argue with a body-builder? Anyway, we had all just spent four years in college dorms that may as well have had the same sign tacked up on the door. As soon as we were inside the house we all stripped to our underwear. Except for Josh, of course. He had usually stripped on the way in at the convenience store when he stopped for a pack of cigarettes. Barb approved.
In fact, Sonja and Lucy really approved. Veronica said we could all go naked or wear tuxedos, it made no difference to her. On hearing that I announced that I didn’t own a tuxedo, and stripped naked on the spot.
“Put that little thing back inside,” Sonja told me. “It might get cold. I prefer my sausage warm.” I dutifully put my tighty-whiteys back on. I was addicted to Sonja’s sausage sampling and didn’t want to meet her uncle.
Anyway, that’s us. Four horny guys with four hornier girlfriends. All in a clothing-optional neighborhood. Whatever could happen?
Well, that’s another chapter.
Mei
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