Hi. I'm Gerald Mills. And welcome to nowhere.

There's the sound of that same damn dog barking. Occasionally, the wind picks up and shakes the neighbor's porch chimes. And then I guess we're pretty loud too, as we kick up dust, my fiancee in her knee-high pink boots and me in my demolished hiking shoes. But otherwise, this town is dead - quiet, brown and barren.

I guess I shouldn't be complaining though. After all, we have a home now, away from her parents' judgment. What's more, I have a job. It's not a great job, and it pays pocket change, but it's better than nothing.

It has been a while though.

As my fiancee leads the way through these barren, ramshackle, paint-peeling houses, I can't help but admire how her white yoga pants fail to conceal that huge, jiggling ass. 

See, I've had to watch jealously as that ass has drawn every guy's attention toward it. Jaws drop the world over for that ass. Years back, it used to make me insecure, but now I want nothing more than to plant my cock in her butt cleavage and watch as she twerks on my dick - pull her waist-long dirty blonde hair, slap those fat C-cup tits...
 
It's all the damn roommate's fault. Although he is the only reason we're allowed to stay here. We're a pretty private couple though. We don't like sharing our sexuality with the world, or with anybody.

Each time I've brought up threesomes, even in bizarre hypotheticals, my fiancee (Julie is her name - odd that I didn't lead with that) just blushed and demanded I get back to eating her out. I couldn't tell if she was more aroused or disgusted by the idea.

We were supposed to be trying for a baby awhile back. But I guess that just hasn't worked out, what with our new living arrangement...

My fiancee's attention is transfixed on something. She's got a look of horror on her face.

As I look from her bright blue eyes to the window where she's staring, I grow horrified too. 

Staring right back at us is a man in the full-room window of a decrepit house. He's about my age, but he's got muscles in places where I didn't know muscles could be. 

What's most apparent though is the massive cock he's planted in his hand, which he's furiously stroking. I mentally note how much larger it is than mine in every way, before feeling tremendously inadequate. 

As I look back to my fiancee, her cheeks reddening, I can't help but see that there might even be some arousal there.

I could go knock on that guy's door and complain. I could call the Chief of Police, who is also my neighbor, Chief of the Fire Department, and the first responder, and let him know about the pervert on Maple Street. But I don't do any of that, because I'm fucking pathetic.

"Hey, honey?" I say to my fiancee. "What's up? Why'd you stop?"

She shakes herself to attention, smiling. "Oh, nothing!" She laughs. "Sorry. I thought I saw a wasp."
 
She resumes our stroll, but as I look in the window, the guy's just laughing, staring at me as he strokes himself. He clearly saw everything.

I'd love to punch him right in his square jaw. But then I just remember what Drew, our roommate, told me yesterday. I remember because it seemed so odd.

"Hey, Gerald?" he told me privately in the first-floor hallway of our home. "I know you can be a bit hot-headed, but please don't make a bad impression? Some of the guys here can be real assholes, but most of these people mean well. And I don't want this to be college all over again."

---

The town's pizza parlor is one of its few remaining businesses. Today though, Drew's Pizza remains empty, save for the four employees that fill its eating area, and one tiny brunette woman. But they aren't gorging themselves on pizza.

In the brightly lit eating area, the old, collapsible wood tables covered with red and white cheap vinyl cloth, four men gangbang a small, pale brunette with the body of a gymnast. 

The brunette lies stretched out on a table, screaming with pleasure. A middle-aged man roughly yanks her ponytail, as he wedges a disproportionately large cock into her mouth, a trail of spit following from his shaft to her cheek. 

Another man at the opposite edge of the table forces a cock seemingly as wide as her waist into her pussy, slamming into her with an aggression that shakes even her tiny, perky tits.

As Grace takes a nearly foot-long penis from both ends, she can't help but feel like she's being ruined for her husband.
How did these men, two old enough to be her father, convince her to cheat?

"You're sure you put the sign on the door?" One of the men asks, while furiously masturbating himself to maintain his erection. "We don't want another surprise like this one."

"Relax, Drew," says the guy slamming her pussy. "The sign's on the door. Nobody's coming in here. Town's dead any - way. Fucking… whore!"

He cries out as he unleashes a torrent of cum in her well-stretched pussy. 

As he unsheaths his bare cock, he gestures at the youngest man, a lanky looking teen with acne and spiky hair, 

"Welcome to the club, Jimmy! Fuck 'er good."

"Oh God, I've waited so long for this," Jimmy says, stroking herself and moving into position. He guides the longest cock Grace has ever seen into her pussy. 

He begins bucking into her aggressively, trying to fill parts of her even Mr. White couldn't reach. 

Mr. White moves over to where Grace's clothes are piled up on the tile floor. He picks them up, and looking her straight in the eye, rubs his massive cum-covered cock all over her frilly black dress. 

"Let's see you go back to your husband in that!" Mr. White laughs. "I'm sure Pastor Will'll have a nice sermon for us this week!"

She scowls at him, as the older man stuffing her face cackles. 

"A cum rag for the cumrag! Brilliant!"

After cleaning himself off on Grace's garments, Mr. White picks up his own clothing and begins getting dressed.

"Done already?" Drew asks him, quietly cringing from his behavior, but still attempting to keep his erection.

"Yeah…" Mr. White says. "This slut's used goods. You can have her."

Drew laughs uncomfortably. 

"How's our new whore doing though?" Mr. White adds. 

Drew looks at the nineteen-year-old on the table, who he had lured in with the promise of scholarships, then convinced with the size of their cocks.

"I don't know, Mr. White," Drew says, his glance now on the floor, as Mr. White moved closer. 

"You're not still on that, are you?" Mr. White commands a strong presence, gesturing widely. "Look. We're doing this with or without you. We've already got the Windowman on her."

"I know, sir." As Drew defends himself, the older man in Grace's mouth asks if she knows what an anchor is. 

"But Gerald Mills is an old friend…" Mr. White says. "I get it. I've had friends, and I get loyalty. It's admirable."

Behind him, Jimmy and the older man attempt to rearrange themselves,

"But ultimately, you can't soften up right when we need you. We share a bond- one that I'd hate for you to break out of your misguided "loyalty. One that benefits us all."

Drew nods silently. He's fully limp now. His heart beats rapidly. 

He thinks about the business he's built up in Emmer, and how much it would suck to lose it all. 

"You know, that looks like fun," Mr. White says, looking at Grace, now getting double-speared. "Maybe I will have another go at her."

---

Later that evening, I decide to try to relax - the look on Julie's face from earlier still haunting my thoughts. 

Saturday night is poker night. That's what Drew keeps reminding me. Last week, the last thing I wanted to do was play poker with my boss and landlord. But tonight might be different.

Julie looks confused by my decision - I'm usually the type to favor D&D over poker - but she heads upstairs, jokingly stating that she refuses to be my "arm candy". I'm secretly relieved. 

---

As Julie climbs the stairs, she aches. There's only one thing on her mind. 

She remembers his cocky smirk. She remembers his rippling muscles - his strained six-pack. But most of all, she remembers his tremendous, throbbing member. She remembers it so well, she can count the veins - recall the exact shade of the head. 

She breaches the bedroom and closes the door quietly behind her. She moves to the bed and flops down.

She tugs at her tight grey yoga pants and struggles to pull them off, then throws them on the floor. She maneuvers her skinny legs out of her pink panties. She slides out of her black tank top. Then she fumbles at the clasp of her bra, trying to free her massive pale breasts. 

As she lies naked on the pink bedsheets, she reaches for her pussy, then for the nightstand beside her. 

She pauses. She doesn't recall leaving the middle drawer open. 

Elevating herself on her elbow, she leans over, and fully pulls out the drawer, looking inside. 

She finds only a note: 

"I have what you're looking for -
The Windowman."