The sign blinked and reflected off the glass fronts of several vending machines, all with small stickers that read: Need a late night goodie, use your neighborhood charge card and pay later. I didn’t have a neighborhood charge card. If I did, I might’ve been able to snatch up one of those ice cream cones before heading out. I imagined what wild toppings I might see. Pubic hair delights, cum drizzle, breast milk syrup. Eww, that’s so fucking gross. I know.
Anyway, each vending machine provided something different. One was for drinks. The top half was non-alcoholic and the bottom was filled with pints of a variety of wines, liquors, and beers. The second vending machine was filled with snacks. A third had common household items like toothpaste, floss, mouthwash, matches, some medicine, etc. The last, of course, was jam packed with sexual odds and ends. Condoms (of all colors, flavors, and textures), cock rings, vibrators, dildos, nipple clamps, handcuffs, and even a small flogger were some of the things you could pick up with that handy dandy neighborhood charge card.
I tapped the glass and wished I could pick up a flogger to use on Bastian later. The good doctor was in need of a serious spanking.
“Just use your charge card!” came a female voice from behind me.
It was Jackie, the girl who’d been next to me at the creative little oral sex buffet table the night before. She was behind the wheel of her convertible. She wore no necklace. She was an owner.
“I don’t have one yet,” I said.
“Bastian didn’t give you a charge card?” she asked. “Wait, is that the welcome package in your hand?”
I looked down at the envelope and nodded.
“It should be in there. Everyone gets one when they arrive. It’s kind of like instant credit but it has a five-hundred dollar limit so don’t go too crazy with the cock rings or dental floss.” she said.
We both laughed.
“You’re gonna need to activate it first,” she said. “Do you have a phone?”
“Not on me,” I said.
“You can use mine,” she said, “If you want.”
“It’s cool,” I replied. “I’ll do it later. I was headed home anyway.”
“Want a lift?” she asked.
A lift sounded great. Not that I was far from home but I was tired and wanted to lie down for a bit. Jackie graciously drove me home and it was so close we barely had time to have a conversation. She asked how I liked the place so far and I told her it was lovely. I actually said the word lovely. I don’t think I’ve ever used it before in my life. Lovely seemed reserved for flowers an old lady puts on her husband’s grave. The thought gave me chills and I didn’t know why. Was Jackie’s ride, or the welcome package, or anything I’d encountered so far anything like flowers on a grave?
Jackie parked outside my house and I was bummed to see the driveway empty. I’d hoped maybe Bastian would get to work and realize how much he missed me and then walk out, slam the door behind him, and say, “Fuck this place. I’m going home to my girl.” Since he worked in a hospital I suppose that’s a selfish thought. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t home. So I thanked Jackie and got out of her car.
“Wait,” she said as she grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving. “Look, this is a great place to live if you give it a chance. People here aren’t perfect. Some of these bitches are just downright…bitches, but there’s bitches in the real world too, right? Just read your rules and regulations and follow the damn rules and allow yourself to have a good fucking time, girl. That’s all you need to make it work. And if you need anything, come talk to me. I’ve been around. I know the ins and outs and who’s who and what’s what.”
She gave me a wink and blew me a kiss before letting go of my arm. I liked Jackie. She was probably the realest person I’d met since entering the neighborhood and that said a lot since everyone seemed to be stripped naked half the time and totally open and honest.
Inside Bastian’s house, or I suppose I should start calling it my house, I got a drink of water with a fresh squeeze of lemon, picked up my rules and regulations manual, and took it all upstairs with my welcome package to sit on the bed, read, and relax.
The welcome package did in fact have my charge card. I activated it immediately. I didn’t want to run into another emergency sex toy situation without it. With the card was a welcome letter that didn’t mean a whole lot since I was supposed to read it before reading the manual, putting on the necklace, or meeting Vivi.
In addition to the charge card, there was also a Pet Participation Punch Card which was a bright yellow business card with 50 circles printed on the back. Attached to the card was a list of participating vendors with everything from a yoga class to a pole dancing class and even the car wash and dentist. It resembled the kind you might get from your favorite restaurant. At the bottom was printed in small letters: Remember, pets with a full participation card will be rewarded by the HOA Management Committee.
I also found a notepad meant to be used for my class the next morning and a pen. There was even a cheat sheet of body parts and sexual terms, most of which I was already aware of, but a few that surprised me. Here’s a sample of some of the stuff on the list:
A-Spot: This summed up term is used to define the very sensitive area high up along the woman’s vaginal wall, sometimes confused with the G-spot, but located slightly higher.
C-Spot: This summed up term is used to define the clitoris.
G-Spot: Gentlemen, please pay attention to this one. Often ignored and rarely discovered, this summed up term is used to define the pleasure button found two inches up along the vaginal wall.
U-Spot: This summed up term is used to define the opening of the urethra.
Donkey punch: As a male is close to ejaculating, he inserts his penis into the anus of his partner and immediately punches him/her in the back of the neck which causes the anus to squeeze the penis and result in extreme orgasmic pleasure.
Golden shower: Also known as water sports, this is the act of urinating on a lover to give one or possibly both of you sexual pleasure.
Gooch: This is the area of a man’s body located between his penis and his scrotum. This can be a highly sensitive area on some men.
Pearl necklace: The act of ejaculating on a lover’s neck, giving them the appearance of wearing a white, beaded, pearl-like necklace.
Shocker: (aka shock her) This is the act of fingering the vagina with the index and middle fingers and at the same time inserting the pinky finger into the person’s anus.
Taint: This is the area of the male and female body located between the vagina and anus (women) or between the scrotum and anus (men).
Teabagging: The act of lowering the male scrotum into the female’s open mouth and then raising it, over and over, quite similar to the motion used when dipping an actual teabag into hot water.
Wheelbarrow: As the male is going at his lover from behind, aka doggy style, he lifts up the lover’s legs and holds her/him that way while the lover’s hands remain on the floor.
The one that had me laughing the hardest was the Woody Woodpecker, which I’ve had done to me several times, especially on screen, but I’d never realized it had a name. This is when you’re sucking a man’s balls and he keeps tapping his cock against your face or forehead as if to say, “Hello. The rest of me is up here awaiting your treasure trove of fun.”
Go back and re-read G-Spot and it’s clear a woman put this list together. Looking through the welcome letter one more time I was reminded that the woman in charge of the community, also known as the President of Erotic Mayberry’s Homeowner’s Association, was named Kendall. I wondered how she landed a job like that. Talk about having to screw your way to the top.
I set the cheat sheet down onto the bed and flipped to the next loose-leaf page in the envelope. This one was a weekly calendar. This place was so fucking organized that I knew without even looking there’d be a monthly calendar somewhere in the stack of papers. Here’s a quick glance at the weekly calendar. I should mention that ever single she
et in the envelope had the words “Subject to change” typed neatly at the bottom.
Sunday: Open Pool Play, Partner Swap Sunday
Monday: New Pet Training, HOA Meetings
Tuesday: Naughty Toga Parties, Topless Tuesdays
Wednesday: Naked Yoga
Thursday: Pets in the Park, Movies after Dark
Friday/Saturday: Community Center Parties, advance notice will be posted on all bulletin boards and placed in homeowners’ mailboxes when one is planned.
Saturday: Mandatory 69
The week was planned out with sensual activities. Erotic Mayberry was like a nudist colony with gratuitous sex included but you only went nude when the schedule called for it. The next page in the packet was a brief history of the neighborhood.
Turns out it was founded by a group of fifteen couples who wanted to escape the hustle and bustle of the maddening city. Apparently they all lived in the same apartment complex and were being evicted to make room for more office buildings. Together, they took the money they were offered for their building and bought a large piece of land, had it walled in, and built homes. Back then it was little more than a free-living hippie utopia. I imagine too much drugs led to total sexual free-for-alls, which then led to a few rules being added and here we go.
Kendall, the HOA President, is the direct descendent of one of the original owners, one of the last kids to be born inside the community.
What does that even mean, the last kid born inside the community? How are they preventing childbirth?
I decided I’d ask in the following day’s class. Surely they’d explain it.
After a nice hot shower, I climbed naked into bed, and pulled the blanket up over me. I loved the feel of the satin sheets on my bare skin and hoped Bastian would come home soon to make love to me. I’d seen so much sex that day that I thought I might go crazy. I hadn’t searched the house well so I wondered if my man had a hidden stash of sex toys somewhere saved for a special occasion.
A vibrator sounded nice. I thought about the vending machine at the plaza and considered tossing on some clothes and making a run over there for one of the “goodies.” Laziness got the best of me and I decided to watch TV instead. I grabbed the remote off the nightstand, turned on the TV, and flipped through channels. The usual junk filled the screen.
A talk show.
A depressing news story.
A reality show with a spoiled brat throwing a fit because she didn’t win a dance contest.
A cook-off.
A man fucking a woman in the ass.
“What the fuck?” I said out loud as I sat up, letting the sheet fall down to my lap.
He was really giving it to her, gripping her hips and slamming his cock into her asshole while his balls bounced off her pussy. It was amateur, for sure, as the camera angles sucked and the lighting was shit. The moaning was all real. I hated actresses who moaned and sighed just for the camera. Especially the ones who sounded like they were getting fucked into oblivion but were still composed enough to give steamy glances at the camera and purse their lips like they were on the beach posing for a photo shoot. I’m sorry but if you’re able to blow kisses, you’re not coming hard enough.
The girl on screen was definitely being fucked hard enough. This girl was in total ecstasy and wasn’t afraid to show it. The guy looked like he knew what he was doing too. He slapped her ass, then licked his hand and slapped it again. The skin on her ass shook. He gripped her waist and pulled hard, ramming his cock into her.
Horniness took over and I found myself touching my clit with my free hand.
Then I saw the necklace. The man wore it. He was a young, handsome man with long blond hair. The woman bent over in front of him turned to look up at him and her long black hair was stuck to her forehead. She was gorgeous. The young man suddenly pulled out and shot his load on her lower back where it began to pool. She laughed. She looked back at the camera and blew a kiss.
Now that’s how it’s done.
That’s when I realized the writing on the screen. It read: 65 live views.
I flipped the channel and saw a couple in bed. The man was reading and the woman, wearing a necklace, was asleep on his chest. It read: 1 live view.
The next channel showed a man and woman arguing, actually it was more like the woman yelling at him. The man wore the necklace. He sat quietly. I turned up the volume and heard her voice cry out, “Really? So it doesn’t seem wrong to you that you smoke all the weed while I’m at work?” The screen read: 32 live views.
The next channel showed Vivi giving her pet a blowjob, fisting his shaft hard as she shoved the head of his cock into her cheek. Her screen read: 18 live views.
My heart raced as I realized I was looking at my neighbors. These were real people in their private homes. Or not so private. I pushed the channel up button.
A blonde woman sat on her bed watching TV. Her perky tits rose and fell with each breath. It was me. The screen read: 5 live views.
I looked toward the back of the room and up into the corner where it seemed the camera would be and I didn’t see one. All that was there was popcorn ceiling and a white wall. I whipped my head back and saw my hair move with the motion as the camera watched me from behind. I quickly pulled the sheet up over my tits.
I looked back at the camera.
“You people are watching me?!” I asked.
I looked back the screen and it read: 4 live views. I supposed I was one of the viewers meaning at least three other people were watching me sit here in bed. One had changed the channel when he or she saw me get angry. I felt violated. Sure, I’d performed on screen before and had made a living off of letting people watch me, but I’d always had a say in the matter. As far as I knew, I’d never been filmed without my knowledge.
I flipped through other channels and saw more couples going at it and another couple arguing, and a man masturbating while watching the first channel I’d flipped to.
This is fucking crazy. It’s insane.
As I returned to my channel, I noticed that it was 303, the number on the mailbox out in front of the house. I clicked rapidly and realized every channel above 200 was someone’s bedroom. Only the bedrooms though. I imagined higher numbers must be other rooms in the homes, maybe the kitchen or…
It dawned on me that maybe people had watched me on the toilet or watched me the other day in the kitchen when I’d fingered myself or watched as Bastian and I made love.
Much to my relief, a search through every single channel on the remote showed that only bedrooms were filmed. No one had seen me, at least they hadn’t as far as I knew. Maybe there were hidden cameras all over the house, maybe the phone was bugged, or maybe every word out of my mouth was being recorded.
Oh my God.
I hit the “off” button and the screen went dark.
The bedroom no longer felt safe and I no longer felt comfortable without clothes on so I put on pajamas, picked up the rules and regulations, snatched up a pillow, and went to the couch. I needed to find out as much as I could about my new neighborhood. The HOA rules and regulations should explain everything. This time I would read through them carefully and soak up all the details. That was the plan, but my body felt differently about it and I didn’t make it far into the book before I fell asleep.
“Sunshine, hey, this can’t be comfortable.”
Gentle shaking pulled me from my sleep and I opened my eyes to see Bastian squatted down next to the couch in charcoal slacks and an icy blue dress shirt. His gelled hair, his five o’clock shadow, the smell of his cologne…all of it made me smile.
“You’re home,” I said as I sat up.
“That has to be the most uncomfortable position I’ve ever seen anyone in,” he said. “I mean your head was over here and your arm was over here and…”
I shut him up with a kiss. His shoulders relaxed and he sank into me, pulling my body closer to his. My eyes closed and I savored the feel of him, the warmth of his embrace, the wetness of his ton
gue. It seems impossible to miss someone in such a short amount of time, but I felt as if he’d gone off to war and left me stateside.
“I missed you,” I said as I pulled away from his mouth no farther than an inch.
I needed his kiss again. He was the reason I was there in Erotic Mayberry. Without him around, it all felt fake. Seeing him again reminded me that it was real.
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he said.
“I don’t want to go in there,” I said. “Ever again.”
He laughed.
“That’s not exactly something I like to hear,” he said. “You never want to go to our bedroom again?”
Welcome to E. Mayberry Page 9