Nikki and the Neighbors

By Daddy X

I haven’t as yet seen anybody lose a temper. This’ll mark the end of that.

From: Brand X, link to your right —>

Nikki and the Neighbors

We lived on a kid-friendly block. Like neighbors everywhere, my parents wouldn’t have met any of the adults if it weren’t for us kids. The Tobins, down the street, had a boy about my age. Jimmy. The whole block got together for holidays, backyard barbeques and the like, but Jimmy and I spent nearly every day together.

We were a couple in high school. I was the spirited little cheerleader who rooted for the team. The guys all wanted my compact, cantilevered little body. My perfect set of tits and melon ass would spur them on. But I was Jimmy’s girl.

The football helmet covered the twisted cowlick in his rangy red hair. He’d watch me sashay, hand on hip, do my cartwheels, mid air splits. Made me wish I hadn’t worn anything under the floppy little skirt. I hoped I didn’t distract him there on the scrimmage line, him so serious—taking control. 

He was my first love, first lover. It seemed like a natural thing, learning from each other as we grew up side by side. First kiss. First pubic hairs. First feel. Jimmy’s was the first cock I saw after my dad’s.

I used to watch my parents make love through my peep hole in the attic. I was sneaky. I’d watch them and tell Jimmy all about it. What I saw—how it felt when I did. The way the moisture developed in my own fleshy little pussy as I watched entranced. What I did when I got back to bed.

Jimmy showed me how boys jerk off.  He told me his parents made a lot of noise in the bedroom. Like they were arguing.  Slaps and cries could be heard throughout their lovemaking, but he never saw them doing it.

One night Jimmy was babysitting for his little brother so I went over. We watched his parents’ dirty movie— “Deep Throat”— on video. They came home early. Well, I can tell you it was a scene that night.

I had his cock all the way. All the way down my throat. We were on the floor and I was on top. It’s easier that way. My ass to him. He had some fingers in me. I was so wet. Then came the sting on my ass. 

At first I thought it was just Jimmy, reddening my cheeks. Like Dad did with Mom when he wanted a “red hot piece of tushy fruity”. But the second blow lifted me off my knees. I was about to complain but then it became clear. We were caught.

His mother screamed at us.

“Eighteen she is! …Eighteen and a fucking HAND up her cunt for crissakes!”

His father wanted to spank me right then and there, but his mother said no, that it could be viewed in some skeevy way. They told my parents instead.

 My folks were actually okay with it but Jimmy was grounded for I don’t know… a month or whatever. We had to do something; we were so horny. He called me one afternoon. He had to rake leaves after school and said he would set the ladder up at his window just before it turned dark.

I climbed the ladder late that night. Climbed up and snuck in his window. We were both so horny from not seeing each other that Jimmy had the condom on by the time I got out of my sweats. This was no make out session. No petting, no finger fucking, no cock sucking or cunt lapping. None of that. This was just pure, hormonal, teenage fire. At first it was just the whispering, snickering and all, but it sure progressed.  

We were fucking in a missionary position, my ass bridged up off the bed on heels and shoulders. Humping mindless … for like … like what seemed just a few minutes. I guess we were making a lot of noise. The door flew open—bright lights filled the room.  His dad. And he was yelling.

“Doris! Get up here! Just look at this… She’s back! Little slut from up the street. She’s back. And she’s on her back. In bed with Jim.  They’re FUCKING! This is it! Little CUNT! Enough is enough, goddammit!” 

Then it was the two of them, standing over us in the room. Everybody’s screaming. I’m sobbing, pulling on my sweat bottoms to keep my lower parts covered. Jimmy’s crying it was all his fault. His dad’s yelling to his mom that he had told her so. That telling my parents last time didn’t do a goddamned thing about the situation. That he was going to spank the shit out of me then and there.

I dreaded a spanking. Nobody had ever spanked me before, but it seemed better than them telling on me. I didn’t want to disappoint my folks again. They said it didn’t matter, but I heard the gossip.

I felt guilty when it came to my parents. Didn’t want to get things even more involved than they did. And they did. Get involved in the neighborhood, I mean. 

Of course now I know about spanking fetishes.  But when Jimmy’s father turned me over his lap—well, I didn’t. Not yet.

“You have really done it this time, young lady,” Jimmy’s dad announced. He sounded serious.

The mom chimed in:  “Lady? That little cocksucking whore? She’s no fucking LADY!’ Sounded like Jerry Lewis. “Take it from somebody who knows… I’m a fucking lady.  We’re a whole classy fucking family, you little CUNT! Go ahead—smack her ass, Andy.” 

Jimmy tried to help me. He stood there naked with the silly rubber waving around at the end of his softening little pecker. It slid off as they wrestled him out of the room. They locked the door—put the back of a chair under the doorknob. I got scared. I had no idea what was going to happen, they were so mad. Both fumed, their faces bright red, and I had a feeling my little bottom would soon match.

It was late. Jimmy’s father sat on the side of the bed, wearing the ratty bathrobe he always wore in the evenings. They situated me across his lap so my butt would stick up. Despite all my squirming, between the two of them they easily held my arms and legs down. They were much bigger than me and there were twice as many of them. His mother held my legs with one hand. She pulled the black sweat pants down with the other—just in the back. Stretched ’em down to bare my ass, then hooked the elastic under the protruding cheeks which squeezed the two buns up, exposing them and rounding my backside even more.

The front part of the sweats still covered my front. I felt better about that, because… because… I could feel something there. A thing. A hard thing. Pushing up from under his robe into my lower belly. The black material was the only barrier between his—uh, him—and me. I could feel the thing. Jesus—he wasn’t wearing underwear!

Jimmy kept pounding on the door, hollering about how much he loves me. 

In the chaos I heard Jimmy’s Mom murmur.  “Jesus, she looks great that way. Doesn’t she, Andy? Do… do I look…” The garbled words trailed away.

His father laid his hand across my backside. I closed my eyes, waiting for the first blow. But then I felt his hand move. A little.  A couple of fingers dipped down, near my—between my cheeks.

Whap!

There was another loud smack. I didn’t feel either one.  Doris was now hitting her husband.

Then she was yelling again. “Oh no! No you don’t, you asshole! Just SPANK her, Andrew! What the fuck is WRONG with you? Spank her or I will! The little cunt! Fucking corrupting our son like that!”

Terrible woman… I think from New Jersey.

“Look at her ass,” Jimmy’s dad said. “Her whole ass is sticky.” 

I had been anticipating the evening with Jimmy and my pussy had been drooling since early morning. My bunched up panties stayed drenched all day. I guess our missionary sex, just so rudely interrupted, had caused more of the stuff to ooze down my crack. Jimmy’s hands must have spread it out over my cheeks.

  I remember it feeling strangely cool when his dad mentioned the wetness. Funny how certain things stand out in the memory. It’s as if I can feel that same quality—that damp coolness. Right now, on my ass.  

My parents never hit me, so I didn’t know what was coming. With the petulance of a child, I had made up my mind that I wasn’t going to let them see me cry. Until the first wallop.

WHAP!

 It seemed to come out of nowhere. Caused me to yelp out loud and grind into his crotch. He kept that big hand right where it landed, mooshed into my teenage tush. He pressed me down hard. He twisted my ass around like he was opening and closing a jar, a circular motion, and growled, squeezed my flesh.

Jimmy’s mom hit him on the head.  “Just spank the little bitch, goddamit! Christ, Andy. You’re as bad as they are!”

All the time, Jimmy’s banging on the door. Sweet Jimmy.

 His father started smacking my damp, upturned bottom in earnest. This was getting too real. Whack! Whack! WHACK! It really stung. I screamed, trying to keep myself raised up to meet the sharp slaps so I didn’t have to press on his hard-on. But he was hitting me, hitting me so damn hard. No sooner had I stuck my ass up than the next smack shoved me down. Anticipation and reflex caused me to squirm, to bear down on him with each slap, trying in vain to compensate for the angry blows. Doris stood up but kept a tight hand on my ankles.

The hard claps started sounding like applause, accelerating faster and faster. I realized the both of them were now wailing on me, landing alternating slaps on my scalded backside. The sharp stings landed a split second apart but blended together into one hot fire. I cried, I squealed, I hollered, wriggling myself to the point of frenzy, flailing, pleading for them to stop.

I forgot about the cock poking into my belly and bit hard into the bedding, trying desperately to fill my mouth and stop the screeching that poured from my hoarse throat. My fists grabbed the blankets, seeking any purchase, any leverage to kick my bound legs harder, fiercer. I tried anything to fight back, but they just held me tighter.

Jimmy’s banging on the door got louder. He screamed and I screamed for them to stop. Doris held me as best she could. In the fracas I noticed—with horror—my sweat pants were slowly inching down my thighs. My frantic reactions just hastened the process. Soon there was nothing between Jimmy’s father’s hard dick and my bare belly. He had lost interest in hitting me, but he held me there while his wife hopped in front of him, focused on her target, smacking my blistered skin while yelling as if she was addled. Slapping me, jumping up and down on every word.

“Fucking … cunt! ... I’ll … redden … your … slut… ass … for … you …IF …your … parents …won’t! … Fucking… slut-ass… cumsucker cunt! … Fuuuuuck!”

Jimmy’s mom was in a state, cross-eyed with rage and out of control with something I didn’t quite understand. His dad just sat there. Held the small of my back down, watching his wife beat the young red ass squirming around in his lap. I’m sure he felt his pre-cum-wet dick poking into my bellybutton, because I felt it too.

All my desperate movements were causing his thick stylus to scribble his juices all over my belly, my fuzzy pubic bone. It’s funny how you remember the little things. I can remember thinking … thinking at the time … It even writes upside down!”  

 Every now and then his dick worked up between my legs. Through the crotch for a flop or two. I could feel it poking through to the other side, between my ass cheeks.  At this point, he was content to let his wife continue to slap me as he held my waist, now with both hands, just above the dimples. He shoved me around on his lap, adopting a kind of circular grind over his boner.

“Hold her still, Andrew! HOLD HER!”

He just kept rubbing me over and over himself. Back and forth, round and round on his lap. He wasn’t paying any attention to her by that time. She had stopped smacking me and I was grateful for that, but her husband was not going to be talked to. He heard nothing. She yelled at him. She beat on his head and shoulders, but he just held me down, my drawers now barely covering the backs of my knees. Shoving me over and over his lap, rubbing my torso on himself like a limp rag doll.

“What the fuck…? ANDREW! Let go of her! NOW! I know what the fuck you’re doing, you son of a bitch! Stop that. Stop that now, you asshole!” 

Doris kept smacking him but he didn’t even bother to block the blows. He just held me as best he could, scrubbing me back and forth over himself. Then, keeping one hand on the small of my back, he reached with the other for the cheek furthest from him. The grown man used my right buttock as his other handhold, gripping me with the thumb and heel of his hand. My sprawling, erratic leg movements had worked the sweats down to my ankles. Now I was essentially naked from the waist down. But worse still, my ass cheeks were spread apart. 

He renewed the shoving, the pulling. I could feel my pink pucker wrenched open, visible to both of them with each shove. I could feel it. I was so humiliated to have them see me that way… so—uh—so exposed. So wide open that way. But, mortification was easier to ignore than getting hit, I guess.

The action got wilder, louder. Jimmy’s cries came from the other side of the door. His continued banging got more aggressive.  Jimmy’s dad was mumbling something.  “grrmmrr… rosebud… dusky… winkin’ rosebud… grrruuummmm… F—fuckin’ hot  dusky buddd… Jesus! Fuckinnnn’… hot… reddd…bunnnnhs…”

All at once I realized his dad’s thumb was rocking dangerously close to my bunghole. Before I could compensate, it popped in to the first knuckle. Now he was able to pinch my cheek even tighter. The renewed grip enabled him to create more complex movements on his lap. Increasing his efforts, he rubbed my pubis over his big dick, faster and faster. Round and round he pressed me.

Next day there were four round bruises on my right buttock. From his fingertips. I think he bruised my ass hole too. It was real sore. And it looked like it was a darker color on one side, I think. I could see it in the hand mirror, and—

(Naughty Reader! Do your best to dispel those images! Images of precocious eighteen year old Nicole, naked, alone, playing with mirrors…)

Doris was still slapping him, yelling: ‘Dusky fucking rosebud my ass! Let her go, Andrew! You can’t DO that, you asshole! You bastard! Stop that! Now, goddammit!”  She kept bashing Jimmy’s dad’s head all the while. I was happy, at least she wasn’t hitting me, but the situation was getting too crazy.

After some minutes of this, Jimmy’s dad suddenly bellowed. “Wohhh… Oh... God! Jesus! Oooh!” He splooged all over my belly and my thighs. The man bucked wildly, growling, grinding me around on his lap, holding me tight with a thumb up my ass. Crying out loud with his climax.

“OH. MY. GOD!” yelled his wife, hands to the sides of her head.  “NOW you’ve fucking done it! You make me sick! What are we going to do now? You fucking PERVERT! We’re gonna land in jail…”

Jimmy’s dad just grinned sheepishly, still dazed by the power of his orgasm.

It was easy to get off him then. Doris tried to chase me but she slipped on Jimmy’s condom and fell down. I took the opportunity to scramble away, pull on my top and toss my sweat bottoms out the window, then follow ‘em down the ladder, hearing all the threats and slaps behind me.

 I was still naked down below. As I backed out the window, I remember feeling the cool autumn air on my hot buns as well as the wet from my belly button to the top of my ass crack. The liquids seeping, chilling both thighs as I climbed down the ladder. At the bottom, hiding in the trees, I pulled on the baggy black sweats to cover myself. Once on, I rubbed the thick fabric between my legs to sop up the stuff inside.

Someone threw my shoes at me.  I heard Jimmy’s mother yell.

“Stay the fuck away from my little boy, you cock sucking trailer trash TRAMP!”

The last picture I have of that room as I backed out the window was Jimmy’s father in bed in the fetal position. One hand held his bathrobe over his head, trying to fend off the blows raining down. The thumb of the other stuck in his mouth. Jimmy’s mother was beating her husband with Jimmy’s wooden ruler. Her dark blue pajamas had Jimmy’s used rubber stuck to the back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What if she tells someone? Andy, you fucking ASSHOLE!”

A week later, the word was out that the Tobins would be moving away from our block.

Alas, I never saw Jimmy again.