My Bride and I Click with the New Neighbors By Titslave I felt apprehensive about marrying Heather two months ago for only one reason – she’s a youthful 32 and I’m 45. Otherwise it was a precious gift from God. Putting aside the age difference I was thrilled with our new life together. We were planning on a family, Heather would stop working, and every morning in our new home out here in California I took one look at my gorgeous bride and felt like praying. Mrs. Randall Carlson made me proud. Soon after we were married in our home town of St. Paul, Minnesota I had accepted a position heading up an information systems department at a hospital in southern California, and I managed to get Heather a part-time x-ray technician job there. We bought a three-bedroom split level in this pleasant community in metropolitan San Diego, although it is a bit of a commute from the hospital. Heather is a long-haired bleached blonde with a charming smile, bright brown eyes, and plenty of curves. After years of botched romances (I am na?ve and often terribly clumsy about women) I got lucky with her. She kids me about how unsophisticated I am about sex, and pokes fun about how mesmerized I am with her chest. But you would be too. When they passed out the breasts, she really got a quadruple helping. They’re so big and rounded, and they sag only a little with all the weight, yet they’re still perky. Some days they look absolutely incredible. She wears bras that never seem to fit her right, and the flesh of her boobs pushes over the top of bra cups at her tops. She is somewhat modest about it. When we’re intimate, I feel like a little boy, intimidated by her extra large bosom. Our neighborhood out here is quiet, too quiet when we first got there. We knew nobody here, and it has been hard to get acquainted with people. Our folks lived back in Minnesota. So it was a relief when a week ago the ranch home next door, which was vacant when we had moved in, was rented out by the owner. Some very nice, jock type guys in their early 20s set up housekeeping. We were thrilled to see the Ryder rental truck in the driveway on the day they moved in. Not long after two of the four came over to meet us. It was a relief having neighbors, and people who actually were friendly. We said so when Jack, who was a tall, beefy lacrosse major at one of the universities in the area, introduced himself along with Curt, short but also very well built. Curt was out of college and was kind of vague about what he did. Later that day we met the other two guys, James, a very ripped construction worker, and Bill, who went to school with Jack, and who was lifeguarding for the summer. At last, other human beings we could talk to, who didn’t hide inside their homes. We bought our new friends a bottle of champagne to welcome them to the block. I could tell these young guys appreciated us and Heather seemed to make a big impression on them. Jack looked down at me while Heather was chatting with Bill and James in the driveway earlier this past Wednesday and said very tactfully, “you’re a lucky guy. Heather is very pretty.” I thanked him, grateful for the compliment. Later Heather told me that Bill and James joked with her and said it was too bad I had beaten them to it and grabbed her out of the pool of “babes.” This last Friday Heather and I, worn out from the week, couldn’t wait to leave work and were sitting on our deck around 7, still in our work clothes. Our new neighbors appeared to have gone away for this late April weekend, so we were worried we were back in the too quiet mode. Then, fortunately, we heard a car door slam next door and a masculine voice said “knock knock!” We saw Jack standing to our left near the side of our house, at his driveway. He was carrying a bag from the liquor store and was pointing toward the fence separating our properties. We greeted him warmly and he said: “Come on over for a drink. It’s time for happy hour.” His invitation was music to our ears. We ran inside and changed. I was ahead of Heather and after throwing on some shorts and a polo shirt ran downstairs and grabbed some wine from the fridge. I heard the sound of her laced Gucci knock-off raised heel sandals on the living room hardwood floor, and she came into the kitchen with a yellow tube top and a loose fitting light red skirt that went down to just below her knees. She sure looked incredible with bare shoulders and midriff, and her too die for overdeveloped breasts jutting out braless. I was still almost incredulous that she was my loving wife. As I predicted, all four of the guys were very happy to see us, especially to see my wife. We poked our heads through the door where the backyard fence met their house, and they gave us a warm welcome. To our pleasant surprise they had a pool and a hot tub. There were appreciative whistles from our neighbors, and applause, as they looked Heather over. They were very “cazh”, in shorts only, and introduced us to Lemont and Reggie, two other lifeguards that worked with Bill and did part-time personal training at a local gym. Lemont bore an amazing resemblance to a young Walter Payton. Reggie, to an intimidating bouncer retired from professional football. Jack thanked us for the bottle of wine and handed us two healthy sized Margaritas. I begged off and asked for some white wine and Heather, who must have been thirsty, laughed and said to them: “I’ll take his then!” “All right, the lady’s thirsty!” someone laughed. A gas grille was sitting idle, with brats and burgers still wrapped from the store. “Does anyone know how to do this?” Jack called out. Like an idiot I said: “I’m an expert.” He put his arm around me and said: “Good, cause we don’t know a thing about it. All we know around here is drinkin’, the sports pages, and girls with real big racks.” Bill hollered: “and tonight definitely looks like a real big rack party!” That got everyone cheering and hooting. I didn’t quite get his reference, but suspected he might be alluding to my wife, so I went along with it and grinned. Heather didn’t seem bothered by it and took a healthy sip of her Margarita. Feeling at home I fired up the grille. “Let’s hear it for Randall!” someone yelled, and I was treated to a round of applause. Soon the preparation of potato salad and keeping the condiments and chips going were added to my responsibilities. The atmosphere was TGIF. The six guys were very nice to Heather, surrounding her at the picnic table. I was learning about her enjoyment of Margaritas; she was almost done with the second one after about half an hour. She was giggling as she sat on the picnic table, Jack sitting to one side of her and Lemont to the other. Everyone was very nice to her and asked her all about our whirlwind romance and our Puerto Rico honeymoon. As I unpacked all the food and set up the grille, I heard bits and pieces of the solicitous sounding questions all the young hunks were asking my bride. “Bikini or two piece?” I heard Curt ask, with a big grin. “Any topless beaches?” someone yelled, and that got a big laugh. It was really impressive to see young guys, unattached and apparent party animals, display such a congeniality toward Heather and a genuine curiousity about our honeymoon. And they just couldn’t stop focusing on her. I was totally flattered. My cooking duties sort of made me the fifth wheel, my being over at the grill and all the guys and my bride were at the picnic table about ten feet away. To show how considerate they were, one or two guys made a point of coming over to talk to me from time to time while I worked away at the grille. But, understandably, even when they were over by me, their eyes almost always were on my cute, voluptuous wife. I think we were the hit of the evening, or rather, she was. Three of the guys were in a side conversation and as the first batch of brats got going I could tell they were hungry. They must have been impressed with the hefty burgers and brats I was preparing because I heard one say, as they stood near me but looked over at the picnic table: “Can you believe the size of those fuckin things?” “Tonight,” one of the others said, “we gotta get our hands on them.” The three laughed to each other, and I said: “They’ll be coming your way shortly, gentlemen.” One of them, I think it was Curt, looked at me blankly, then sort of smiled nervously and said: “Oh, yeah, we’re hungry.” Someone else said, “hey, they’re coming our way shortly. Outstanding.” I sensed I was amusing them, or being made fun of. Maybe they thought I might screw up the big brats. Heather got up to use the john next door, her new fans slow to step away from surrounding her, and as she walked by me and said hello Jack said: “No, you don’t have to go home. It’s right inside, off the kitchen.” To show what a gracious host he was, Jack scooted past me and escorted her into the house, his beefy arm around her, and seemed to take more time than he needed to make sure she found the bathroom. “Wait up!” Curt yelled, in a discreet kind of voice, with a smug grin on his face. When I said to Bill, “hey, where did Curt and Jack go?” he stumbled a little then thought that they waited inside for her to give her a quick tour of their place. It seemed quite a while before I heard that patio door slide open. “How was the tour, honey?” I asked her. She seemed puzzled by my question, looked at me and smiled but said nothing. Bill sort of raised his voice and to help me out quickly asked Curt and Jack, “how was the tour you gave the lady?” Jack said, looking back and forth at Bill and me, “oh, yeah, great.” By that time the sun was gone and Curt and Reggie were lighting lawn torches. Lemont was chatting it up with me about the night spots they liked to patronize. Apparently as wholesome as these guys were they had no compunction about taking in the topless places and men’s clubs around San Diego. Meanwhile I looked over at the picnic table and my bride was giggling at all the attention the other young men were giving her. She was lounging on the top of the table with her legs crossed, her back to me, her hands directly behind her back, planted flat on the table. The guys at each side of her and in front of her evidently were making such a fuss over a long necklace she was wearing, because they were staring closely in that direction. I had bought it for her in Puerto Rico – cost me a fortune with the good-sized amethyst stones in it. The guys were gesturing toward the necklace and quietly kidding her about it, or raving about it, I couldn’t tell. But she was in the spotlight and laughed. She didn’t seem to mind at all when just about everybody inspected the necklace, sometimes two doing it at once. The laughter and teasing had eased up and it got quieter. They appreciated jewelry and she seemed to be very flattered as they took their time handling her necklace. I could see they appreciated the real precious stones in it. At one point Lemont kept saying, “these are real. Biggest fucking things I have ever seen.” Someone said, “she’s sure proud of them.” As this continued Curt got behind her on the table and I couldn’t see much. But judging by the sounds of approval, that necklace was getting an amazing amount of inspection time. I couldn’t get over how Heather and I had hit the jackpot. Two weeks ago we felt so lonely and disconnected, and now we were among people that were friendly. Here were amiable neighbors treating my wife like a queen, catering to her request for a fresh Margarita like five personal butlers. But I was the runner. I found myself being sent to the kitchen or to the basement to check for more propane for the grille in case we needed it and while I was inside could I check for any voice mail messages on their phone. As I came back outside I noticed that the comments turned to my bride’s working out and Heather’s jogging. She mentioned that it was giving her back aches and cramps in her thighs. “I can see why YOU would have back aches,” Reggie said. Heather poked him in the chest and smiled, among the giggles and hollers. “Let us know when you’re bouncing by,” someone said, drawing snickers from the fellas and a swat from Heather. The thing about her aches and cramps was news to me, and I figured she was exploiting all the attention from these very athletic looking guys. She threw in some comments here and there about how cut they were, and did they get knots in their big muscles too. She obviously appreciated their physiques and I figured, just because she married me she should still have the freedom to look other men over. Nothing wrong with looking, right? Then I heard Jack say, very seriously: “Well, if you have a back ache I can fix that. I am trained.” Heather yelled over to me: “Hey honey, Jack is certified in back massage, and he can fix that ache I have in my lower back.” Again, first I had heard of her back problem, I hadn’t realized that she had one, but it was nice to know I married a gal who was not a whiner. Soon, I looked over and saw Heather move, or get moved, with Bill’s able assistance – he sort of picked her up – from the top of the table and let her down to straddle the bench. Jack planted himself snugly behind her. I thought it odd that he was sitting so close, since that would make the back rub more awkward, but he was trained in this, after all. What did I know. She looked at the others and smiled and lifted her hair off her shoulders, her arms bent at head level. She sat up real straight and everyone was gawking at her necklace again, and kind of looking at each other, then back to her necklace. Jack seemed very conscientious about what he was doing, concentrating carefully. The other guys grew quieter again as he went to work on her problem. I was impressed that this man would drop everything and give her a solution to her back problem. Judging from the smile she gave me and the way her eyes half closed as her head drooped, his powerful hands were doing a good job of locating the problem areas in her back. I noticed that her skirt was way up her thighs but I thought better of calling attention to it in front of the others. Of course she was unaware of how much of her thighs was showing. Or maybe they had been talking about how toned her legs looked from working out. I caught her eye and she waved at me with a loving grin. I went back to chatting with Lemont, who was asking me about the Vikings and why they were so lousy. I could have used some eye contact for at least five seconds from one of these guys while I worked, but like the others who stepped over for a brat or sent me into the kitchen on some obscure mission, he was looking at the picnic table. Everyone was getting more jumpy, or obsessed with the picnic table, the more time went by. A few minutes later I noticed that Heather must have been getting that back ache cleared up because she was arching it and thanking Jack. But then Curt picked up where Jack left off, planting himself right behind her. “Like this, Jack?” Curt grinned as he concentrated on a rubdown. The others congregated closer around the table as he sat snug behind her. Sometimes he wasn’t rubbing her back at all but just was snug against her, particularly at bench level. Apparently the ache was migrating because his hands were on her shoulder blades, her neck, up and down her arms, her waist, down at the hem line of her skirt, and even under the tube top. He tickled her a few times in the stomach and in the sides and hugged her when she shrieked and giggled. Others noticed her ticklishness and got in some good natured tickles at the same time. I noticed that in addition to the physical therapy she was getting for free that they were having great fun, and he then he bent near her ear to say something I couldn’t hear and she smiled. Then she muttered something back at him and everyone chuckled. A few turned to look at me, to make sure I wasn’t left out, and then turned back to watch. I went in to use their john. As I made my way from the patio to the sliding door I looked over and saw someone else behind her, Curt having been replaced, and I heard Heather say that she also had some cramps in her legs from running. She looked around at everyone and pleaded theatrically: “I keep telling you that both legs bother me. Wish I could find a decent therapist for that problem.” She pulled her skirt up even more and pointed at her thighs. She did not have to yell to be heard because all the guys were barely breathing, much less talking. “I’m an expert” someone finally said, and there was a subdued murmur, not laughter. And I guess I wasn’t the only one to suspect that her underpants had to be really small because as high up as her skirt was, you could’t make out the panties. But I was hardly an expert on women, as I told you before. I found the john myself, and when I came out Heather was back sitting on the top of the picnic table longways, her left leg stretched out and her right bent. Her skirt was practically all the way up to her crotch. Lemont was on the table too, kneeling behind her, his knees snug against her sides. As I watched him move what I assumed were his hands up and down her back, he noticed my gaze and smiled, then said: “Hey Randall, my man, could you call for pizza?” Jack and Curt jumped right in with that, hurriedly looking my way and turning back to face the table. I once again was willing to be a helpful guest and agreed to step in the kitchen and get the order over the phone. As I wrote down the pizzas to get before going in I noticed Reggie was sitting on one bench facing her at waist level, rubbing her leg, and James was on the other doing the same thing. She moved her leg toward Reggie, so that he could get at the ache, and bent her other leg toward James. Reggie looked over at me and said to her: “Here?” and she said “sort of” and then he would move his strong ebony hands elsewhere and ask “here?”. He seemed intent on helping her and, although Bill was kind of blocking my view, standing in front of her sort of, I could see that Reggie was sincerely trying to locate the pains in her legs. He was very thorough. So was James. As far as I could tell Heather was so relaxed from this attention and her Margaritas. Her eyes were closed and her mouth somewhat open, her tongue slowly licking her upper lip. Bill was grabbing a brat and when I noticed two others taking over and working on her leg cramps he told me that all the lifeguards could be trusted to massage Heather because they needed to know this for lifesaving. “She’s in good hands,” he said confidently as he returned to his spot right in front of her, facing her. Whoever was working her legs was getting more and more vigorous, taking turns in using an in and out motion with an arm bent, like they were rubbing back and forth faster and faster parallel with her upper leg. My lovely bride graciously bathed in all the flattery she was getting non-stop from these guys who were saying alot of positive things to her the whole time. As she lay more and more against Lemont she gripped Lemont’s arms. She seemed to be singing or humming a tune I couldn’t make out. Someone, looking my way quickly, leaned over to the boom box next to the table and turned up the music to drown her out. It was dark now. I think Bill and James were attending to my wife’s aches and pains, spelling James and Reggie. She was holding another Margarita in her hand, still on the bench, and Bill was rubbing her back too, or her side, although Lemont and Reggie were blocking my view. Heather seemed to be leaning snugly against Bill, so that she was reclining in his lap, and somebody massaging both of her legs pretty high up with that really quick motion. She didn’t seem to mind at all, and was now swearing at someone. This amused some of the guys and they laughed, apparently grateful to hear that a gal could swear like a sailor. I guess the aches were really high up her legs. I was appreciating the fact that these guys were taking up the time at a social gathering to helping out my wife and relieve her discomfort, but worried they were hurting her, the way she was acting. She seemed to be getting better, judging from the sounds of physical relief she was making, but was gasping like she just walked twenty flights of stairs. At one point she seemed to have this great release of pain because she cried out and swore again. The Margarita must have spilled because I saw something dripping down from the bench to the ground and some of the guys looked down with amusement and kidded her about “really getting into it.” I went into the kitchen to call in the pizzas, which took time, and also got more food and beer, my role for the night apparently being the quartermaster, chef and bartender. It took two trips and the second time I came out I noticed two more guys. No one introduced me to them. I heard Jack say to them: “Was I right? Fuckin’ hot?” The two new comers agreed readily and as they came over and sort of smiled and stared as I told them who I was, I realized that the party was gathering even more momentum. I went into the kitchen for more food and when I came out Heather, Jack and Curt were gone. I was trying to find out where they were and I heard someone yell from the pool area: “But I called it first. Well, I get first in line when they come back.” Reggie told me that Heather wanted to swim and went to change into a swimsuit. Jack and Curt had expressed an interest in a cook’s tour so they went with her, since Jack had shown her around their place earlier in the evening. I stepped toward the fence to go to my house and Reggie grabbed me, “I need to ask you a computer question..” He cornered me and seemed sincerely interested in getting my opinion about his Mac. About fifteen long minutes later the fence door opened and in walked my bride in a bikini I had never seen before. Everyone practically stopped talking. She looked great on our honeymoon but this outfit was way beyond what she wore in San Juan. Her bikini was red with yellow polka dots, and the too small top consisted of small cups covering the lower thirds of her F cup boobs. Her incredible breasts swelled enticingly, overflowing and bulging out of the cups. The cleavage was breathtaking. The lower half of her swimsuit was more of a thong than anything. The cheeks of her smooth, round butt were almost completely visible. The guys went crazy, whistled and applauded like idiots, and my wife was the hit of the evening more than ever. She smiled at me and headed toward the pool. The lawn torches were near my food table, and the grille, and off near the middle of the lawn. In fact someone had moved that one from the pool when she showed up. So the pool and the hot tub were more dark. You should have seen the whole gang follow her like little kids chasing the ice cream guy down the street. She had two escorts at each arm and the rest in tow. They stopped as the two stood close to her at each side, her back to me. Apparently that stubborn cramp was bothering her and I saw two hands massaging the area immediately above her thong, only their other hands seemed to be holding her in the front for balance. I figured they were trying to avoid falling over since everyone was drinking. In any case they all took much more of an interest in helping her out now that she had this bikini on. With her back to me I noticed that the lower portion of her suit was so thin it looked like she had nothing on down there. As close as all they guys were standing I was concerned that Heather would be annoyed but, as I mixed up some more Margarita mix for her she waved in my direction to let me know everything was all right. I decided to walk over and socialize, armed with another drink for my thirsty wife – it was for the first time since we met seeing her having a fantastic time at a party, letting herself go – and a tray of burgers and brats. Two more guys seemed to have shown up, and it was getting hard to see everybody. I was chatting with Bill again and he was telling me that he was going to give everyone a little lifesaving lesson. Evidently while they were talking my wife had shown a persistent interest in what to do if someone were on the beach with lungs full of water. “She keeps asking me, `if I were washed up on the beach, what would you do to revive me’?” To show what a sport she was Heather had volunteered to be the “victim”. Curt ran out with an air mattress and set it on the ground at the edge of the pool. I heard low chuckles as Heather stood with her hands on her hips, standing by the other guys and getting teased alot – it sounded like. “We can’t wait,” a male voice said softly as Bill spoke. She lay down on the air mattress and everyone cheered. “We need a lifeguard here!” someone yelled in a drunken voice. To make it look authentic my wife had undone the back of her bikini top so that she was laying with the cups barely holding her extra large tits. Bill stood over her and said softly: “You guys need to know what to do if you suspect water in the lungs.” All the guys stood around her in a circle and Bill was now standing over her, straddling her, and slowly descended. “Pay attention,” someone said in a tone that gave me the suspicion that maybe some of these guys weren’t taking this very seriously. Bill was now kneeling so that he was snug against her, and he moved her legs out on either side of his trunk. Her curvaceous legs were bent, snug against his thighs. “The new method is to push the body of the victim forward from the center while you push down on the chest and breathe into the victim’s mouth.” He grabbed Heather’s legs – she seemed to have no hesitation about keeping her legs in this position and lifting them for him so that he was even more between them and pressing forward. Then, to my surprise, he put his hands on her breasts and then put his open mouth over hers. It was hard to see everything, between the dark and the wall of muscle men, but Bill kept alternating between simulated breathing into her lungs through her mouth and rubbing her chest. I noticed that his pushing against her lower body was getting a reaction from her, so she must have been playing the part of the victim regaining the ability to breathe. Bill seemed to be losing his own breath and kind of panted when he said: “So you just keep doing this until the person you saved comes to.” I heard hoots and hollers from a few guys but most were extremely attentive as he continued to “save her life”. Heather made more sounds like she was being revived, then they both stopped. Lemont and then Reggie took over. When Lemont was halfway through his exercise he said to Bill: “Am I doing this right?” Bill said very earnestly: “Oh yeah. You’re learning a valuable life saving technique here.” Again I heard some subdued chuckles that made me want to speak up. So I said: “Hey, this is good to know. Don’t make fun of this.” Twice when Reggie was saving my wife from “drowning”, I heard her release a lot of air and from her lungs. She was really getting into the part of being rescued, even shrieking a little. Apparently Reggie, who was perhaps the biggest guy there, was so eager and physical with her that she forgot her part and yelled: “Oh my God, you are huge!” They had me go next door and chase down some booze for shots that was kept in the closet in the front of our house. When I came back Bill told me offhandedly that Heather was now the one doing the lifesaving. I walked with him to the pool area and sure enough she was straddling someone – it was really hard to see – and everyone was chanting “go! go! go!” I could make her out through the narrow space between two guys and she seemed to have her legs outside the “victim” she was straddling. She was grabbing and pushing on this chest and her breasts seemed to really move around alot while she was doing this. Then she held on to the thighs of the men standing very close to this exercise, and her Margaritas overload had gotten to her since she, not the guy she was saving, was yelling out and swearing again. I pushed my way in and was about to kid her about her confusion when I realized, to my shock, that the guy under her had no trunks on and that she was bouncing up and down on his groin. He was obviously fucking her, and she was going crazy over it. Guys were grabbing her big tits and most had their shorts off. After a guy I didn’t know came with a groan, amid applause, another guy lay on the air mattress and my bride could not wait to jump right on him. Someone brought a lawn torch over and she and everyone saw quickly that I realized what was going on. What a reality check! Now that it was all out in the open she made a point of throwing her bikini top in my direction and bouncing up and down on Jack’s big cock harder and faster than ever. He came inside her soon after that. As he lay there she stood up and Reggie, nothing on, grabbed her and turned her upside down in the air. His powerful arms held her suspended in front of him so that she was holding his thighs. He turned so I could see her big tits flopped down on her chin. He jerked her up and down to make her boobs bounce wildly. Everyone thought that was pretty funny. She was really screaming with excitement. I couldn’t get over how amazing her boobs looked shaking like crazy. He slowly carried her over to the pool, her bikini bottom still on, his long, thick prick aimed into her face and hair. He brushed against several erections along the way and she reached for them and giggled. He tossed her in the water and Reggie and Lemont and Curt jumped in after her, amid laughter and her shrieks of delight. I needed to sit from the dizzying effect of this surrealistic situation, so I sat at the side of the pool. The next thing I knew, Heather was next to me, staring at me with no expression, one of her hands holding the ladder. Each of them took turns fucking her from behind. The water splashed violently as their dicks stroked in and out of her body. One would fuck her for a while then another one would jump in. Soon others were taking turns sitting next to me and pulling her face into their crotches to suck them off. She pleaded to have them cum in her face and a couple obliged, rubbing their cocks all over her gooey face. This almost made her have an orgasm, the way she reacted. While she was getting skewered underwater the guys laughed when her cries of carnal ecstasy were blocked by the dickmeat guys at poolside were shoving down her hungry throat. This went on for a good forty five minutes. At one point she got out of the pool and with her back to me got fucked from behind at the top of the ladder while guys played with her clit and sucked her tits. This made her cum so hard she sprayed her juices into the pool water. Jack and Curt made fun of her cum. Her cries of pleasure sure got the guys cheering and clapping their hands. The whole thing went on to past midnight. She fucked each of them again and gave everyone blowjobs, and I noticed at least three or four strangers getting their share, guys that someone had called on a cell phone to come over and check out the big-titted whore. When we left Heather promised her hosts that she would be interested in more parties very soon. “And Randall can handle the grille,” she smiled, kissing me on the cheek amid roars of approval.