Chapter 1
Suzy Sasse felt sorry for her neighbor. Poor Mister Putz seemed to be the most henpecked man she knew. His wife Mabel was always picking on him, complaining constantly because he preferred his friends' company to hers. Who wouldn't? Mabel was a slob. Maybe she was pretty once, but those days were long gone. Strong drink and a starchy diet had turned her into an ugly sow. It was a wonder he still stayed with her, she was such a mess. Most likely it was due to their daughter, a spoiled little snot who always sided with her mother, that he endured the constant abuse Mabel heaped upon him. That he didn't haul off and deck her was some kind of miracle. A lesser man would have left such a sinking ship years ago, but not Harry. Perhaps he liked to suffer, or maybe it had something to do with his masculinity. Despite his forty years, paunch and bald spot, Harry was amazingly virile. He still had his football shoulders, running-back legs and forearms capable of precision passing. Few young bucks, no matter how tough, would dare block his path. He had a way of looking at you that sent shivers down your spine. Harry was definitely a ballsy, if henpecked, guy, and Suzy wished her boyfriends could be half the man he was.
Harry Putz sat sipping a cold Hamm's on his front porch swing. Alternately he studied yesterday's sports page and the girl next door. Suzy Sasse had to be the sexiest thing he'd ever seen mow a lawn. He wished she'd come do his, just so he could watch her work. Pretty as she was poised, she looked even better in motion. Due to constant exercise, she had a body second to none. Betty Grable's legs palled by comparison, as did Marilyn Monroe's mammalia. She had a supple little torso that seemed built for bed. She was everything Mabel was not. Maybe Mabel had it once, but that was too far back to remember. Now she was a complaining pig, and that's what counted. If only she didn't drink so much, he decided, taking another sip of beer, or eat so many pizzas and potatoes, she might look okay, but she'd still be a bitch. Glancing at Godzilla heading his way, he wished he'd shit-canned her years ago. She and her awful daughter were all that stood in his way to happiness. Without them, he might be able to live again. As it was, he felt like he were serving a life sentence for statutory rape. If only he had used a rubber fifteen years and nine months ago he might still be a free man instead of a prisoner of lust.
"HARRY PUTZ, QUIT LOOKING AT THAT GIRL LIKE THAT! YOU DIRTY OLD MAN, YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!" bellowed Mabel from behind him with such volume he spilled his beer all over the sports page.
"For chrissakes, Mabel, now see what you've made me do." He mopped up the spilt Hamm's with the rest of the newspaper, again earning her enmity.
"Ruin the newspaper before I even get a chance to read it," she humphed, her arms crossed in a show of stubborness.
"You act as though it were my fault," he retorted, shaking beer off his sweat shirt.
"It is. You know better than to drink beer. It makes you fat."
"You're one to talk."
"Whaddaya mean by that?"
"You know what I mean, or are you ignoring your little problem with the bottle again?"
"You would bring that up. You're the type. So I've got my weakness. Sure I like to take a nip now and then, but that's better than making eyes at little girls. Believe me, if Suzy's daddy were alive and knew what you were doing, Harry Putz, he'd come right over here and punch you in the nose. In fact, I've half a mind to hit you myself." She raised her right arm threateningly, making him wince. "Why, that girl can't be any older than our Cissy. What kind of a man are you? Pretty soon you'll be doing perverted things to our daughter, if you haven't already."
"Honest to God, Mabel, I haven't done a damn thing. All I've been doing is reading the sports page, when you come in here screaming like crazy and make me spill my beer."
"Don't swear at me, you dirty-minded man. Don't you come near me, or I'll call the cops."
"Oh, Christ, you've been drinking again, haven't you?" He shook his head in disgust.
"Don't you dare use the Lord's name in vain! You'll rot in hell for what you done, just you see!"
"God's sake, Mabel, I haven't done anything, unless drinking beer is some kind of sin."
"There you go again, using God's name in vain."
"Oh, fuck God, anyway, what has He got to do with this?" Harry knew he shouldn't have said this as soon as he said it, for it turned Mabel livid, but at least it shut her up. Nothing like shock treatment to deal with a crazy woman. He wondered if he ought not further provoke, and then commit her. Serve the bitch right to stick her away in an asylum where she could be with her own kind. Only if he irked her any more she might get violent, and he didn't want to die before seeing the football game this afternoon. Best wait until a more opportune moment, he mused, gritting his teeth to keep from saying something he'd regret.
Mabel looked at her miscreant husband as if he were the Devil himself, slowly shaking her frowzy head at his sinfulness. Her thin lips pressed together in a pout, she stood arms akimbo glowering down at him. What a worthless bum he is. Serves him right for seducing me before the age of consent, the sex-crazy bastard. Maybe Daddy was right, we should have sent him to jail, the way he forced me against my will in the back seat of his Ford. If he hadn't plied me with that cheap wine, I'd never have submitted to his dirty desires. Funny, but after all these years I can still taste that Tokay. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have a reason to drink. He mint my life, the lazy sex maniac. I told my pa he was going to be a big-time professional football player, but then the bum got drunk at our wedding reception, fell down and broke his leg. Ever since he's blamed me for putting a stop to his career when all the time it was his fault, not mine. But he never was man enough to take the blame, or admit his shortcomings.
"Well, Mabel, don't just look at me that way. Surely you had a reason for coming out here other than to tell me I'm a sex maniac. You tell me that every time I take you to bed."
"No more you won't. Any man who would take God's name in vain and think dirty thoughts about a fifteen-year-old girl doesn't deserve to enjoy my body."
Enjoy? More like endure. Going to bed with Mabel is like making love to a garbage truck. She's that big, and smelly. I bet she hasn't washed her cunt in years. Mabel's the kind of female that makes you appreciate Mother Thumb and her four daughters.
"Just what is it you want me to do, other than quit fucking you, which is no great loss."
"You can always beat off, that's about your speed," she sneered.
"Tsk, tsk, such language to be used" by a lady."
"I ain't no lady, nor are you a gentleman. We're just a couple of hicks who had to get married."
"Speak for yourself, farmer's daughter. I happen to be able to read and write."
"For all the good it does you. You're still just a sweathog for Roto Rooter."
"I happen to make good money."
"Yeah, for a sweathog."
"You should talk. All you ever do is eat, drink and make eyes at the milkman. At least I work for a living."
"Big deal! Here I work my fingers to the bone keeping this place clean, picking up after you and doing your laundry, not to mention raising our daughter in a house with a man who reads Playboy."
"It has some very good articles."
"Yes, and pictures of nekked women. That's what you're interested in. I've seen you unfolding the center section, oogling those shameless hussies."
"You should be glad I'm a normal red-blooded American male. I could be a nancy boy, you know."
"Sometimes I wonder if you aren't, the way I see you flexing your muscles in front of the mirror."
"Let's quit arguing, okay? Now, do you want me for something, or don't you?"
Mabel pointed toward the kitchen. "Get in there and carry out the garbage before it takes over the house. I told you last night to do it, but of course you didn't."
"Do what?" He smiled.
"Carry out the trash. Cripes, but you got a dirty mind."
"Don't you? I see the way you look at Cissy's boyfriend."
"Lance? Why he could be my own son. In fact, I wish he were. There's a boy who's going places. Already he's got offers from several colleges for football scholarships, and he ain't even graduated yet."
"So did I when I was his age, and where did it get me?"
"You could have become something if it weren't for your obsession with sex. Think of how many times you cut football practice so you could be with me."
"And think of how I had to quit school so I could support you and the kids. That's what ruined me, not the broken leg or cutting practice. I was one hotshot halfback, and if it hadn't been for bad luck, I'd have become All American, maybe even All Pro."
"Hah! You blame everything on bad luck, even when you can't get it up."
"If you'd make yourself more desirable, Mabel, I might get interested more often."
"What makes you think you're such hot stuff anyway? Why, I get better offers than you from the milkman, not to mention vacuum cleaner salesmen."
"Yes, they're about your speed."
"Carry out the garbage, and don't give me any more lip if you know what's good for you."
"You don't scare me a bit, woman," he sneered, rising to his full six feet.
"Oh, yeah?" She picked up the broom she'd been using and proceeded to beat on his overgrown crew-cut with great force, flailing away at his bald spot like the crazy woman she was. Watching the scene from next door, Suzy really began to feel sorry for poor Harry. He really was getting the short end of the stick from Mabel, who had to be the bitch of all bitches. With her temper, she belonged in the roller derby, she really did.
Avoiding her broom, Harry skirted inside and accidentally stepped on the cat, which hissed and spat. "Everybody in this house hates me," he muttered, making his way to the kitchen. There, garbage was stacked twice as high as the waste basket. Rather than make two trips, however, Harry decided to try to carry it all at once, unsuccessfully, spilling trash across the floor. Hearing the clatter of beer cans on linoleum, Mabel came running.
"You idiot, look what you've done to my beautiful floor, and I just waxed it!" she screamed, her booming voice echoing off oilcloth walls.
Harry wisely held his tongue as he attempted to pick up the mess. The sticky stuff spread on the floor reminded him of times he'd barfed, which didn't make it any easier, nor did Mabel's continuing to nag him about what a loser husband he was.
"I don't know why I ever married you, I coulda done lots better."
"You were pregnant, remember?" he couldn't help interject as he scooped up coffee grounds with his hand.
"Serves you right for forcing me to submit to your base desires."
"Serves me right?" he laughed. "And as for forcing you, as I recall you practically begged me to get into your pants.
"How dare you say such things about your wife?"
"You weren't my wife then." He chuckled, and received a rolling pin on the ear for his impertinence.
"Confound it, woman, you could've killed me with this thing." He picked up the rolling pin and tucked it under his arm, announcing, "You pick up this mess, I'm going to Freddy's Bar to watch the game." Only when she was safely out of range did he drop the pin.
"So you're going to leave me all alone again on Saturday afternoon?" she said with a martyred tone, but Harry was steeled against it.
"Damn it, woman," he said, putting down the pin as he grabbed his pork pie hat, which he wore to hide his bald spot, "I don't work my balls off all week long just soV I can come home on weekends to hear you bitch. Nobody wants to be around someone that gripes as much as you do."
"How dare you talk to me like that!" she thundered.
Freedom was only a few steps away, and Harry wasn't about to turn around to defend himself. He bolted out the front door as if he were avoiding a tackier, but as it slammed shut he could hear Mabel weeping. Reluctantly, he reversed direction and went back inside to rectify matters.
"Now, now, girl," he soothed, cradling her frizzy head against his stout chest, "I'm sorry I made you mad, honest I am."
"You are?" She looked up at him through tear-stained eyes, then hugged him fiercely. "Oh, you do still love me, you do!"
"You know I do, baby, just please don't snot on my sweatshirt, okay? Come on, I gotta get going." He pried himself loose from her embrace and sprinted down the sidewalk toward Freddy's.
He had gone no more than a few yards when he was hailed from the sidelines by Suzy, whose power mower had quit.
"I've tried everything, and it just won't start," she said through beestung lips, gesturing toward the engine.
Mesmerized by the nipples of her unbrassiered mammaries, which stared at him through a tight, sweaty T-shirt, Harry paused for a moment to enjoy the view, then offered assistance. Dropping to his knees, he studied the situation and found it enticing. God but this girl's got gorgeous gams, he mused while fiddling with the choke. Those hot pants sure don't leave much to the imagination. Why they're so snug, I can see the outline of her snatch.
"Is something the matter, Mister Putz?" she asked, noticing the way he seemed transfixed by her crotch.
"Oh, no, Miss Suzy, everything's just fine," he replied slowly, his eyes enjoying her delicious, shapely ankles. Was there anything about this girl that wasn't perfect, he wondered, wishing he had more time to study her before the game started. She seemed flawless from head to foot. He bet her cunt didn't stink like Mabel's either.
"Do you think you can fix it?" She bent over to see what he was doing, accidentally brushing one of her boobs against his cheek.
He wanted to take a bite, but somehow refrained. God, but her tit felt good. Harry stole another glance at her crotch and felt a stirring in his. This girl was too good to be true. She had restored his faith in the female race, and rekindled feelings reserved usually only for the Playmate of the Month. Suzy was that sexy, and more.
"I've yanked on this thing until my arm is sore."
"What thing?" he asked, savoring the double entendre.
"The rope, silly. What did you think I meant?" A slight giggle from down in her throat brought back his adolescence, of what it meant to explore sex for the first time. A virgin's giggle, of that he was sure. Hearing it, he retreated into masculine, adult authority. His voice took on a deeper tone as he firmly wrapped his thick fingers around the rubber handle and told her to stand back. One fierce yank from his steely forearm and the motor was roaring. A few adjustments later and he had it purring.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, Mister Putz!" In her enthusiasm she kissed his whiskery cheek.
"Guess I need a shave, huh?" He felt his chin, maintaining a super masculine posture.
"Oh, no, I think it's sexy. I know I shouldn't say this, Mister Putz, but just then when I kissed you it-it...."
"Yes, my child, don't be afraid. After all, we are neighbors, and your daddy, bless his dear departed soul, was one of my best friends."
"Well," she blushed, her bright eyes briefly downcast, "It made me feel all kinda tingly, but good."
"Naughty girl, having thoughts like that," he chided, touching his greasy fingertip to her cute button nose. "Why, I'm old enough to be your father, and surely you've heard Mabel say what a no good bum I am. Why, right now I'm off to get drunk with the boys."
"As well you should! A hard working man needs to relax with his friends now and then."
"Why doesn't Mabel ever sound like you?" he lamented, smiling broadly.
"Or my boyfriends like you. High school boys are so juvenile. I like you better, you're all grown up."
"They will be, too, in time."
"But I don't want to wait." She shot him a glance that was positively illegal.
"Now, now, little girl, I'm a married man and more than twice your age. Besides, I might be a monster that'll eat you alive!" He growled for emphasis, mugging as he made his way back toward the sidewalk.
"Go ahead, try!" She arched her back to better offset her ice-cream-scoop boobies, stopping him in his tracks. "You like?" she said, describing the outline of her breasts with her fingertips.
"More than you can imagine," he said, reaching in his pocket. His right hand produced a dime, which he tossed to her. "Call me when you turn eighteen, then maybe I'll be interested. Right now I want to stay out of jail and see my football game." He briefly doffed his hat as he backed away from her beauty.
"Chicken!" She taunted in a loud adolescent voice.
"I am not, and don't talk so loud."
"Aw, nobody can hear over the mower. Oh, by the way, could you stop by later and fix our washing machine? Mom would sure appreciate it."
"I'D try, but I can't promise. Mabel always wants me to take her bowling on Saturday night, so I'm not sure I can make it." His eyes again feasted on her protruding nipples, and she knew it.
Quickly covering her breasts, she kidded, "Why, Mister Putz, you should be ashamed of yourself, looking like you just did at a girl who could be your daughter. Tsk, tsk!"
Looking to see Mabel wasn't around, Harry smiled sheepishly and tripped backwards over the lawnmower. His big form was sent sprawling onto the grass. Suzy rushed to his assistance, bending down to give him a hand and a view down the front of her T-shirt that brought the fire back into his eyes.
"I gotta get outa here before I do something I'll regret," he muttered, freeing himself from her grasp. "I'm sorry if I did anything wrong, Suzy, I really am, but beer makes me act funny sometimes." He took off like a goosed gazelle, leaving her with a quizzical look on her beestung lips.
"Well, thanks for fixing the mower, I really appreciate it, Harry." She waved goodbye, amazed a man his age could run so fast. He must really be in shape, she mused as she watched his huge form disappear down the sidewalk. He ran as if he were headed for a touchdown instead of Freddy's Bar and Grill.
Once at the bar Harry had a hard time keeping his mind on the game. Suzy's ripe young body kept flashing across his mind's eye, along with illegal delicious things to do with it. God, I gotta get that girl outa my mind, he thought while finishing his fifteenth Hamm's. Before I do something I'll regret. Why she's no older than my Cissy, though you'd never know it the way she's built like a brick shithouse. God but I'd like to get into her, I bet she's got a pussy like greased silk. Oh, how great it'd be to have her little legs wrapped around my head. Um, um, but she's a luscious piece of tail. She's everything Mabel isn't.
And Friendly. Not false friendly like a cocktail waitress who only wants your money, but friendly friendly. Unspoilt, that's what she is. She has got to be a virgin. No girl who's been screwed could be so fresh. Still, there was her smile, it sure did radiate sex. I bet she's just a tease, but you never know. Although I'd sure as hell like to fuck her if it weren't for the consequences. No pussy, no matter how nice, is worth going to jail for, though hers just might be.
She sure seemed curious about sex, but then most girls her age are. Mabel sure as hell was, which was why I had to get married, damn it. But I have to admit it was sorta fun busting her cherry in the back seat of my old man's Ford. Sure had a helluva time getting rid of that stain, her red badge of courage as she called it. Mabel was sure a hot piece back then, though she sure ain't now. He ordered another draft, cursing his fat wife. Damn her anyway, she sure did complicate his life. If she weren't around, he might be able to enjoy life instead of suffering through it. All she ever did was eat, drink and bitch, which hardly makes for a fun sex partner. Even in bed she complained so much it was hardly worth mounting her, except in desperation. Lately he'd had to be drunk before contemplating it. The more he drank the better Mabel looked, but never would she look as good as Suzy. Nobody could look as good as Suzy, who was the best there is. The more he drank the more he wanted to screw that girl, no matter what the consequences. His sixteenth Hamm's draft came and he drank it down in a single savage gulp, then ordered another. God how I want to fuck that girl, he reflected, then let loose with an enormous burp that echoed across the bar.