Chapter 4

Liz and Bart Smith also lived next door to Pain and Keith, and they had been spying on the mixed-race couple for quite some time.

Ironically, they had been married for ten years, but their marriage was virtually sexless. There was a reason for this. Bart was a bit on the chubby side. In fact, one could say that he'd eaten one too many cupcakes and had become a large one himself.

But his wife was nothing to brag about either.

Liz could have been a stand-in for Babe-the-Blue Ox of Paul Bunyan fame. She was just as large as Pam, but everywhere that the lovely brunette had beauty, Liz resembled a Holstein heifer. She had broad shoulders, a thick waist, and manly hips. She looked as if she could stop a Mack Truck dead in its tracks.

Many men were afraid of her-including her husband. The only reason that Bart had married her in the first place was because she insisted on it. One day she grabbed him by the collar, shook him several times, and said, "You're gonna marry me, do ya here?"

"Sure. Sure. That sounds fine with me," he replied with fear and anxiety. The poor fellow was eating a bag of potato chips at the time and never really forgave her for smashing them. ;, Liz also talked tough. The words "shit" and "fuck" rolled off her tongue with ease. She could say "motherfucker" as smoothly as a seven year veteran of the United States Navy. Her friends guessed that she married Bart because she loved having someone to boss around. She could frequently be heard saying such things as, "Pick up some milk at the store, ass-hole." Or, "Get off your fat ass and mow the lawn, dickhead." Or, "Hey fuckface! Bring in the mail."

Pam and Keith frequently overheard these rantings and ravings and would fall down laughing.

They couldn't believe that anyone would remain married to a woman like that- especially a wimp. They watched Liz beat Bart over the head with the morning newspaper, lock him out of the house for hours at a time, and slap stickers on his back without him knowing it. He would go off to school wearing a bumper sticker which might read "Kick me!"; or, "I'm a dork!"; or, "Idiot on sidewalk: Move over!"

The poor fellow had no self-esteem at all. Whatever little amount he had at the beginning of the marriage, was whittled away by the bitch he was married to. Night after night he would retreat to the security of his bedroom (he had his own) and fantasize about getting out of the relationship. But, of course, he wouldn't. He was too much of a wimp.

People wondered whether this was the result of the marriage, or just part of his character. Those who knew him best blamed it on his profession. He was a geographer who taught classes at the local college.

Geography was known throughout the academic world as the discipline with the" highest percentage of boneheads and losers. Anyone who pursued a career in it for any length of time eventually turned into a bonehead or loser himself. It was just the nature of things.

Bart passed the time alone in his room, either looking at pictures in the "The National Geographic

Magazine", or looking out his window and watching Pam sunbathe in the nude. Since his room overlooked her backyard he was frequently given an appreciative view of her lovely body for hours at a time. In fact, she was a study in geography herself. Her tits resembled twin mountain peaks. Her ass resembled sugarloaf hills. And her slit was as straight as the Suez Canal. If it weren't for her afternoon sunbathing, he might have forgotten what a white female looked like without clothes. After all, Liz had long ago ceased getting undressed in front of him, and the only nude pictures in the "National Geographic" were of New Guinea tribal women stirring cannibal soup.

He would frequently eat corn puffs and beat off while watching her stretch out on a beach towel. He especially liked to watch her do calisthenics. When she bent over to touch her toes, or did deep squats with her little barbell, his heart would practically stop. Once or twice he swallowed a corn puff whole and nearly choked to death before he could dislodge it.

Pam and Keith were almost always in the nude sometime during the week. If they weren't sunbathing on the patio, they would be skinny-dipping in their heated swimming pool, playing with each other's genitals, or, eating at the picnic table in their birthday suits.

Strangely enough, Bart found the sight of a nude interracial couple to be quite erotic. Perhaps it was the contrast in skin color which he found appealing. Or maybe it was simply the taboo aspect of interracial sex which titillated his hormones. Whichever the case, he would sit at his window and whack-off for. hours at a time.

And Pam provided him with some great whack-off material. For instance, she occasionally put her husband's penis in a hot dog bun and would then eat the bread. Or, she would stand on her head and split her thighs and serve her husband cherries from her crotch. She always seemed to be coming up with new and interesting sexual variations.

Bart had a habit of talking to himself whenever he watched the proceedings in his neighbor's yard. If he saw Pam bend over he would say something like, "Come on, honey. Just a little lower. Come on now. I want to see all of that pretty brunette pussy." And since she frequently made love with her husband on top of the picnic table, it wasn't uncommon for Bart to would cheer them on by saying, "Go! Go! Go!"

Although he always spoke aloud he spoke softly enough so as not to be overheard. After all, he-didn't want his neighbors to know about his watchful habits.

He would frequently reach down around his large belly and unzip himself. Beating off while spying on Pam had become an all-consuming hobby which occupied a considerable portion of his afternoons and evenings. In fact, he beat-off so much that his dick had developed a calloused skin.

Yet he wasn't the only member of the household that liked to spy and masturbate. His wife, Li:, also liked to look out at Pam's nude body. And like her husband, she would unzip her jeans and ruh her hands against her pubic region. And also like her husband, she talked to herself and made comments about what she saw in the neighbor's yard.

She thought of Pam as the ideal woman. She was large and beautiful, and those breasts were magnificent works of art She thought that they should have been carved on Mt. Rushmore instead of the faces of a bunch of ugly men. Yuck! She detested that gentler with a passion. The only one she had any respect tor was Pam's husband-and that was primarily because he kept Pam happy with his B-52 sized dick.

This got her to thinking about her own husband, Bart. She said aloud, "Has that fuckhead put the trash out like I demanded.' If he hasn't, I'll fry his nuts and smash 'em like pecans in a vise!"

She had married Bart for the simple reason that he was a relatively bright graduate student, whereas she was only a mediocre undergraduate. Long ago she realized that people didn't get ahead in academia and in life by studying, but rather by having the proper connections. And he provided her with the right connections at the right time.

She had stayed with him through the years because he landed a cushy job as an overly paid geography instructor. She could just sit around the house all day long and fuck- off, while the hubby brought home the paycheck. And as king as she wanted to fleece him, she could.

She never had to worry about him leaving her. He was too much of a wimp to do that. And she never had to worn- about another woman raking him away. He was a fat and ugly geographer.

She chuckled aloud when she thought about geography. "My god! What a sfupid-assed discipline. It's the only field of learning in all of academia where the professors are all social misfits, and the students are all boneheads."

Over the years she had met some of her husband's students. The boys resembled Alfred E. Newman of "Mad Magazine" fame, and the girls, Ma Kettle. To say the least, geography was not a subject which attracted the best and the brightest.

"Oh hell! I shouldn't laugh," she said to herself "After all, my fuckhead husband makes a good living at it for doing virtually nothing."

Again she chuckled aloud and mimicked his voice, '"Now class! Can you name the capital of South Dakota?' Damn! To think that he makes a living asking college students to answer second grade questions. Only in America! Only in America!"