Keeping It Up with the Joneses

by N. S. Johnson

  Johnny parked on the street. He grabbed his football as he climbed out the car. As he tried to balance his school books and backpack, it was the football that dropped. The ball rolled across the street and bumped the curb of the new neighbors. The new guy, Mr. Jones, came down his driveway and picked the ball up.

  “Hey,” Mr. Jones called. “Go long.” He held up the ball, cocking it over his shoulder preparing to throw.

  Johnny took the guy in. He was well built. Good broad shoulders like a linebacker, lean thighs like a running back. Dressed in a business suit complete with jacket and tie, Mr. Jones had good looks like one of those underwear models, but with clothes on.

  Johnny blinked, then shook his head at the thought trying to dislodge it from his mind. He looked away from the guy’s body and focused. He set his books and backpack on the hood of his car and prepared to receive the catch. The ball sailed through the air and landed perfectly in his grasp.

  “Nice.” Mr. Jones gave a clap and then opened his hands in front of his chest. “Toss it back.”

  Johnny glanced over his shoulder at the Smith residence. “Probably shouldn’t. Mrs. Smith doesn’t like ball playing in the street. She might cite us.”

  “Nah,” said Mr. Jones. “She and I have an understanding.”

  Mr. Jones bent his knees, heels digging into the ground, large hands open ready to receive Johnny’s pass. When Johnny hesitated another second, Mr. Jones raised his brow in challenge.

  Johnny tossed the ball back. Mr. Jones caught it, taking a step back at the force of Johnny’s throw. Johnny hadn’t meant to put any heat on the ball, but it was as natural to him as when he was in a game.

  Mr. Jones pulled his suit jacket off and hung it on his plain gray mailbox. Johnny tossed another glance at the Smith house, but then his eyes snapped to Mr. Jones.

  Johnny could see his defined biceps beneath the man’s linen shirt. Mr. Jones’ shirt was tucked into his pants that hung off of lean hips. When Mr. Jones had turned to hang his jacket, Johnny had caught sight of a firm ass.

  Johnny and Mr. Jones tossed the ball back and forth across the street. Johnny had played ball with his dad since he could walk. His dad had been his first coach, and then his loudest cheerleader -if cheering was screaming what a fuck up he was from the sidelines.

  It was nice playing with a guy who wasn’t yelling at him to watch his form or watch his back. Mr. Jones clapped when Johnny made a particularly tricky catch. He laughed when Johnny’s throws nearly knocked him over. And if Johnny missed a catch or over threw, Mr. Jones either picked up the ball to through it back or opened his hands to make another catch.

  “You’ve got a good arm,” said Mr. Jones as he came across the street with Johnny’s ball in hand. “You play for the high school team?”

  Johnny nodded. “Starting quarterback.”

  “I’m not surprised,” he grinned.

  Johnny swelled under the praise. He could smell the sweat coming off Mr. Jones mixed with expensive cologne and an earthy scent that must have been his own. Johnny swallowed trying to wash the taste from his mouth and long term memory. Guys didn’t notice things like how other guys smelled unless they smelled bad. Then they’d make fun, not try to make a memory of it.

  “I got an early acceptance to State,” Johnny heard himself saying.

  “Headed off to college soon? So you’re eighteen?”

  “Nineteen,” said Johnny. “I got held back in the fourth grade. I’m not special needs or anything. It just takes me longer than the other kids to really understand school work.”

  Johnny wished he’d have kept his mouth shut. Now the guy would think he was a dumb jock. He wasn’t stupid. He understood things, and he was interested. He just couldn’t always keep pace with the other kids.

  “I get that,” nodded Mr. Jones. “I was the same way when I was younger. But I never gave up.”

  Mr. Jones clapped Johnny on the shoulder. Johnny liked the feel of his large hand on his shoulder cap. Mr. Jones gave a squeeze and Johnny felt heat bloom from the man’s fingertips and sink into his skin.

  “You wanna come over and watch the game?” Mr. Jones asked.

  Johnny hesitated. This guy wasn’t a stranger. He lived across the street. And it had been fun playing ball with him. Even nicer talking to him and being near enough to smell him.

  “You got homework?” Mr. Jones asked when Johnny didn’t answer.

  “No, sir.”

  Mr. Jones grinned. Johnny knew adults liked it when kids showed their manners and used words like sir and ma’am.

  “Come on over and meet my wife. She’s baking cookies. We can watch a little of the game until they’re done.”

  “Okay.”

  Mr. Jones clapped Johnny on the back again. He left his hand there as they headed up his driveway. Johnny couldn’t escape the musky smell of him so close. So, he took a deep breath and went with it.

  Mrs. Jones was the stuff of masturbatory dreams. She wore a tiny, polka dot skirt and a shirt cut so low that when she leaned over the counter to ask him a question, Johnny got a view of her tits. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “Do you have a girlfriend, Johnny?”

  “No, ma’am. I mean, yes.”

  Mrs. Jones raised her perfectly lined eyebrows at him.

  “I mean, I’m dating. But I don’t have one main girlfriend.”

  “Smart boy,” she said. “You’re too young to settle down. That’s the problem with people nowadays; everyone is trying to claim just one person when there’s a whole world to explore.”

  “Monogamy is an outdated concept,” said Mr. Jones as he sipped at his beer. “Only a few animals practice it. But the ones at the top of the food chain, like the lion, they have a pride for a reason.”

  Johnny looked between the two. Mrs. Jones nodded her head at her husband’s words, not seeming at all put out that he was talking about a man playing the field. If Johnny had dared utter something like that to his mother or a girl at school, he’d have his head snapped off and his dick put in a vice. Which was why he didn’t have a steady girlfriend.

  He liked girls. But he had a wandering eye. Johnny's gaze followed Mr. Jones as he came around the kitchen island and embraced his wife.

  “Men are always on the hunt,” he said as he grabbed his wife’s ass.

  Mrs. Jones giggled and wiggled her tight ass. Mr. Jones ran his hand up her short skirt. Johnny saw that she wasn’t wearing panties either.

  “It’s women who choose whether or not they’ll mate with a man,” said Mr. Jones. “Men have to win the right to fuck a woman. Isn’t that right, honey bud?”

  Mrs. Jones shrugged. “It’s not always a competition. Sometimes a girl knows what she wants, and she’s the one that goes for it.”

  Mrs. Jones’ gaze settled on Johnny. With just that gaze Johnny felt his dick grow rock hard. He’d had girls look at him like that before. The loose girls at school who didn’t need the title of boyfriend. They just wanted attention for a few minutes, and Johnny was good at paying attention for a few minutes. But he averted his gaze from Mrs. Jones.

  “Uh oh,” said Mr. Jones. “Looks like my wife is on the hunt, Johnny.”

  Mr. Jones came back around the island. He put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder like he did when they were outside tossing around his ball. So close, his smell assaulted Johnny’s nose.

  Mr. Jones leaned in and spoke directly into Johnny’s ear. “Since you’re not in a committed relationship, do you want to fuck my wife?”

  Johnny jerked his gaze up. He looked from Mrs. Jones who was setting her hot cookies on the counter, to Mr. Jones whose intoxicating scent scrambled his brain.

  Mr. Jones had seen how Johnny had been eyeing his body since he picked up the kid’s ball. Noting the young man’s interest, and checking to make sure he was legal, Mr. Jones now led the boy to the spare bedroom. He and his wife didn’t bring the people they played with into their own bedroom.

  His wife slipped off the tiny skirt and top th
at barely covered her fun bits. Now dressed in her natural state, she climbed on the bed and spread her thighs. Poor, little Johnny stood and stared at her slick pussy.

  “Johnny?”

  The kid jumped at the sound of Mr. Jones’ voice.

  “Take your clothes off, buddy.”

  Johnny stared at Mr. Jones’ mouth, as though he was trying to read his lips.

  Mr. Jones smiled. He couldn’t wait to take the candy from this little baby. “You can’t fuck my wife with your jeans on, now can you?”

  “No, sir.”

  Did the kid know that each time he said sir it made his cock jump?

  Johnny stripped down with trembling fingers. The kid had a nice, thick cock. It would serve his wife beautifully. Mr. Jones caught sight of her eyeing it greedily.

  Johnny stood before them naked. Although his cock was heavy, his fingers fumbled with it. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jones. I’m a little nervous. Would you mind if I licked your pussy -I’m sorry, I mean vagina, first. Sucking a girl’s clit always calms me down.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Mrs. Jones let her knees fall open. She parted her hungry folds and unveiled her engorged clit. “I’d love for you to suck my pussy. Come on now, come to mama.”

  The kid put a knee on the bed, and then another. His thick cock forgotten, he put his face between Mrs. Jones’ legs. She looked up at her husband and made the same Can We Keep Him face that she’d worn at the pet store last week. Mr. Jones might actually say yes this time.

  Johnny was evidently a stray pup. It had been three weeks that they’d been on this street and already Mr. Jones had seen at least two different men going into and out of the Goode’s house late and night. Johnny was a stray pup that needed a good home.

  Mr. Jones sat down at the edge of the bed. He loosened his tie while he watched the show. Johnny’s ass clenched as he sucked his wife off. Between his muscular legs, the boy’s dick bounced excitedly.

  “You ready now, sweetie?” Mrs. Jones asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Johnny’s eyes were punch drunk and his lips were glossy from her juices. She reached into the nightstand, pulled out a condom, and handed it to him.

  Johnny slipped it on with shaky fingers. Mrs. Jones turned around and gave him her ass. Johnny took his dick in hand and aimed it at her pussy.

  “No, sweetie,” she said. “I want that big cock in my ass.”

  Johnny froze.

  “Have you ever fucked a girl in the ass before?” Mrs. Jones asked.

  “Once. It didn’t go so well.”

  “You wanna try again?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Johnny aimed his dick at her tiny hole.

  “Hold on there, son,” said Mr. Jones. “You can’t just enter her like that. You gotta get her wet first.

  Mr. Jones reached into the night stand and grabbed a bottle of oil. He toed off his shoes and climbed on the bed behind Johnny. Boxing the boy in with his thighs on the outside of Johnny’s, Mr. Jones put some oil on Johnny’s fingers and then put those fingers up his wife’s ass.

  “You gotta rub it around her hole, like this.”

  Johnny did as he was told. Mr. Jones oversaw the progress. He rested his hands on Johnny’s hips as he peered over the boy’s shoulders.

  “That’s good,” said Mr. Jones. Now slip the tip of your index finger in. Here let me show you.”

  Mr. Jones dabbed some oil on his fingertips. Instead of aiming for his wife’s ass, he parted Johnny’s cheeks. Johnny gasped and froze.

  “Don’t stop,” said Mrs. Jones.

  “That’s it,” said Mr. Jones. “Keep rubbing her and then dip in like this.”

  Mr. Jones circled Johnny’s tight asshole. Johnny let out a shuddered sigh. He leaned his head back against Mr. Jones shoulder as both men worked the asses in front of them.

  “Push it further,” said Mr. Jones. He demonstrated what he wanted Johnny to do to his wife using Johnny’s ass as an example.

  His wife moaned, her breasts bouncing from the thrusts. Johnny panted, his dick bounced excitedly from the invading thrusts in his own ass.

  “That’s a good boy. Now pump it deeper.” Mr. Jones pushed past Johnny’s virgin hole, and the kid inhaled sharply. “It’s okay. The burn will recede. Just let go.”

  Johnny did. It didn’t take long for his ass to relax and grab for more of Mr. Jones’ finger. The boy’s hole was eager.

  Mr. Jones poured more lubrication into Johnny’s hand as he worked his wife. Then he poured the oil down Johnny’s ass crack. “Now insert another finger in her. That’s it. Keep pumping.”

  Johnny did as he was told. Mr. Jones mirrored the movement up Johnny’s ass, introducing another finger and pumping deeper. Johnny was having trouble staying upright now.

  “Good boy. I think she’s ready for you now.” Mr. Jones withdrew his fingers from Johnny’s ass.

  The boy whispered a protest. Then Johnny uttered a moan as Mr. Jones took the boy’s dick in hand. He poured more oil over the boy’s straining erection, pumping it a few times.

  “You ready to put it inside her?” Mr. Jones asked.

  “Yes… sir.”

  “Part those cheeks, there’s a good boy.” Mr. Jones guided Johnny’s throbbing cock to his wife’s back door. His own erection pressed into Johnny’s ass as he did so.

  Mrs. Jones didn’t need all the preparation for her ass to be penetrated. It was just a fun exercise to see how far they could go with Johnny. Mr. Jones was guessing he could go all the way. Once he had Johnny’s dick seated inside his wife, he reached for a condom for his own.

  Johnny didn’t know which felt better. His dick inside Mrs. Jones’ tight asshole. Or the feel of her husband’s cock pressed against his eager ass.

  Johnny thrust into Mrs. Jones. Then he retreated and ground back against Mr. Jones. His brain had ceased its shouting about how wrong this was. Nothing in his life so far had ever felt this right.

  Mr. Jones whispered instructions in his ear about how to fuck his wife properly. All the while his hands roamed Johnny’s body. He toyed with Johnny’s stiff nipples. His hands glided over Johnny’s ass. He reached around and cupped Johnny’s balls.

  Johnny couldn’t take it any more. He let loose his load. He thrust so hard into Mrs. Jones that he pushed her into the mattress. Long moments after, when he caught his breath, he apologized.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart.” She turned over and kissed his brow. “You’ll do better next time.”

  Her words rolled over in Johnny’s head, and then he realized, she hadn’t come. He apologized again.

  “Ass fucking isn’t as easy as it looks,” said Mr. Jones. “You gotta get your angles right. When you do, you can make your partner come multiple times. Want me to show you?”

  Johnny looked over his shoulder at the older man. He saw that Mr. Jones was naked, strapped with a condom, and his hard cock aimed right at Johnny’s ass. Johnny had the urge to turn around, reach his tongue out, and give that long, curved cock a lick.

  Mr. Jones smiled as though he read his mind, but he said, “Turn back around.”

  Johnny did as he was told. He turned and came face to cunt with Mrs. Jones.

  “You still owe me an orgasm, sweetheart,” she said.

  Johnny happily buried his face in Mrs. Jones’ cunt. He was nervous about what was going on behind him and her cunt juices calmed him.

  Johnny wasn’t sure if he was gay. He loved to lick pussy, which is why he had so many girls available for his cock. But sometimes he couldn’t keep his eyes off his teammates’ asses when they were in the showers. What did that make him? He didn’t know?

  What he did know was that Mr. Jones’ cock slipping into his ass burned.

  Johnny sucked Mrs. Jones’ clit hard as he took more and more of her husband into his ass. Johnny licked and slurped as his ass relaxed. Soon Mr. Jones was seated all the way in and Johnny came to understand what he meant when he said angles.

  Johnny had stuck his own fingers up his ass before. But he’d never
reached this angle. One just a few strokes, he was coming. The muscles in his ass tensed and squeezed. The throbbing sensations in his ass turned him out like no girl’s cunt ever had. Mr. Jones held still until the orgasm receded. The moment Johnny caught his breath and the channel of his ass settled, Mr. Jones set a pounding pace.

  It was a brutal rhythm. It was exactly what Jonny didn’t know he needed. Mr. Jones changed his angle, and with just a few more long, deep strokes, another orgasm built up inside Johnny. This time he wept as the channel of his ass clenched. He felt the orgasm in his balls, in his toes.

  Mrs. Jones came on his tongue, releasing more of her sweet juices. Mr. Jones came in his ass, filling the tight space even more.

  Johnny didn’t know what he was; gay, straight, bisexual, omni sexual. It didn’t matter. What he felt like at the moment was a lion, and with this last orgasm, he roared.

  The Working Weekend

  “We could’ve finished this up at the office,” Andrea said as she finished tallying the last of the figures.

  Jones had been on the job for weeks now. It had been weeks of the best sex of her life. He’d fucked her at the office every other day. He’d fucked her in her office. He’d fucked her in his office. He’d fucked her in the men’s room. He’d fucked her in the copy room.

  “Nonsense,” said Mrs. Jones. “Then I wouldn’t get to meet you.”

  She offered Andrea a friendly smile. Andrea couldn’t get past it. The woman knew she was fucking her husband at the office. Apparently, the Joneses had an open marriage

  When Andrea had knocked on the door to their suburban house, Mrs. Jones had thrown the door open and embraced her in a hug that lasted just a little too long. And then she’d whispered something so incredibly intimate that Andrea had nearly turned back to her car.

  “I’d know that smell anywhere,” she’d said.

  Andrea had blushed. Only now, after she’d come in and been seated in the Joneses kitchen, was her face turning back to its natural color.