Talk to the Hurmins

To be perfectly honest, even though they scared you a bit (Heather was so hot, you were almost constantly popping wood around her and Dale could squash you like a bug), the Hurmins were still always nice to you. At the least, talking to them would help you clear your head without it being sucked. Realizing how pathetic that sounded to yourself, you mentally gave yourself the middle finger and shuffled into your bedroom to change. Throwing on some jeans, a t-shirt with a purple dragon on it and some beat up boots, you soon found yourself in front of the Hurmin's apartment door. Rapping firmly with your knuckles several times, the door opened within a minute. Standing on the other side was a woman who would be the definition of an ebony MILF if she only had kids.

Heather and her husband Dale, were college sweeties. From what little you remebered, Dale was a senior partner in a very successful security business, designing systems and training badasses. You think someone once said he was a former SEAL or something. He'd gotten a full ride in college on a football scholarship and soon enough had been getting rides from the cheerleading squad. One of which was now his wife. Dale himself was a dark, giant of a man, 6'8" and well muscled enough that he could probably bend steel by looking at it.

Heather, on the other hand, had been going to college for something (you don't remember), but had never used her degree and basically lived as kept woman. She occasionally did some modeling work, and she was well suited to the profession. She was a full foot shorter than her husband, but curves like a deadly road and her smile shown brillantly from her milk chocolate complexion. She could make jello hard just by looking at her.

A confused look flitted across her face as she took in the sight of you at her door. The smile was back almost immediately though. She was wearing a very loose t-shirt that nevertheless did a very poor job of hiding her very full rack. The neck had been stretched widely enough that it fell off her shoulders and showed off the straps of the bikini top she wore underneath. You'd guess she was wearing one of her husband's old shirts she'd cut short to fit her. The shorts she had on were definitely her own. A tight pair of exercise shorts stretched to contain the juicy firmness of her ass and given the color and design of the thin straps hugging her hips above the top of the shorts, she was wearing the matching bikini bottoms.

She didn't even ask your name. She just peered at you with her smile cooling by several degrees. "Are you OK?" she asked.

The concerned tone was nice. It even sounded kinda genuine. "Hey Mrs. Hurmin. Is Dale home?"

The matronly concern was in full **** as she looked at you like she'd heard someone had just been orphaned. "Yeah, he is. Did you want to talk to him? Is something wrong?" Heather didn't wait for a response as she turned and shouted into the recesses of the apartment. "Dale! That neighbor boy is here! Come on out and say hi!" Turning back to you, she's wearing a friendly smile. "Come on in."

After closing the door behind you, she leads the way to their living room. Unlike your somewhat small bachelor pad, the Hurmins could afford a much larger apartment on a much nicer floor. The type of quality space they had was one that took up about a quarter of the floor. Walking behind her, watching the round, bubbled goodness of her backside, you noticed something else. Her bikini was a thong and she was flaunting some whaletail with every step. Motioning for you to take a seat on the couch, Heather sat next to you immediately after. You were trying to figure out how to word the encounter you'd just experienced from your oversexed new neighbor when you literally felt the floor start to shake. Walking into the room was a man who could kick the asses of Vin Diesel, Dwayne Johnson and John Cena. At the same time. The guy was built like a terminator on steroids. He probably plowed his wife like a runaway freight train.

The funny part at the moment is the guy was dressed like he was going to the beach. Wearing a really loud, gaudy Hawaiian shirt and clashing Bermuda shorts, you'd have laughed at him if there wasn't a part of your brain that was wondering if you'd get to leave alive after talking to him and his wife.

Figuring making yourself seem as unobtrusive and harmless as possible was a good way to start, you opened with a safe, "I didn't mean to interrupt. Were you guys going somewhere?"

Despite being a friendly fellow, Dale never really emoted and had a constant case of resting bitch-face. Nodding towards his wife, he stated "Her sister and husband, and some friends from work were going to meet up with us and head to a pool party." He regarded you with no emotion and you struggled with the urge to run. "What's going on?"

Saying a silent prayer that you could leave in one piece, you told your neighbors everything. The meeting with Veruca. Her sudden lack of clothes and very…eager advances. You left out the sordid details you thought you could, but you still made it clear a hot chick had gotten naked and gone down on you less than fifteen minutes after meeting her. Once you were done, Dale and Heather just sat there staring at you. You squirmed slightly from their silent judgement as well as the gorgeous wife's proximity. Throughout the story, Heather had looked in turns bewildered and concerned. Dale's only reaction had been to blink.

Heather finally broke the ice. "So...you kicked her out?"

Nodding in shame was your only answer.

"Did you not like her?"

You thought for a moment. "She was hot, but just throwing herself at me? She had to have been on something or crazy."

"Really?" Heather seemed pretty surprised by your assessment. "Why?"

"I'm pretty sure no chick would want to bang me that quickly or eagerly."

"I can." She states. You freeze at her response. "Did you want her to suck your dick?" All the blood must have rushed from your olive complexion and you looked fearfully at the massive, black spouse less than six feet away from you.

Dale interjected. "Yeah. Did she give head that badly?"

You were trying to get your head around their casual acceptance and oddly forward questions. "Uhhh…n-n-no. N-not r-r-reall-ly."

"But you did want a blowjob, right?" Heather asked curiously, like she was asking if you wanted tea or coffee.

"Ummmm…" this was too weird. "Sure?"

Heather gets a considering look on her face, before asking you cheerfully. "Do you want me to suck your dick?"

Your expression is nothing less than terrified as you whip your head between Heather and her husband so fast, you might get whiplash. "WHAT!?"

The busty, ebony beauty is crouched on her knees next to you on the couch and leaning forward. "Do you?" She points at you. "Want me?" She places her pointing hand on her generous chest. "To suck?" Making a fist with her active hand, she pushes it towards her face while using her tongue to push out her cheek in simulated oral. "Your dick?" She states plainly, her hand ending up very firmly on bulge in your crotch.

What. The. Fuck. Looking towards her husband, you only squeak out a tiny, "Dude?"

Dale just shrugs. "She doesn't suck me that often, but she gives some decent head." He doesn't look phased in the slightest.

"Oh!" Heather exclaims. "Do you wanna fuck? Maybe you want to play with my tits first?" Without waiting for any input from you, the dark beauty has whipped off her top and kneels next to you on the couch beaming in a pair of shorts and a bikini top her chest is spilling out of.