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Get Acquainted

I am an introvert. I like peace and quiet and a lot of it. I don't take pleasure in parties and social gatherings. I find things like that an uncomfortable bore. I enjoy being by myself but if I want company I have a few good friends that I can drop around and see. I just don't see the need to constantly be surrounded by people.

This desire for peace and quiet doesn't mean that I dislike extroverts. I quite understand that some people are real people centric, wanting lots of company. There are, of course, different degrees on being an extrovert. Some just seem overly friendly (from my point of view) while some come across as loud, obnoxious, boors. Again, from my point of view. They're probably quite popular amongst their friends and they probably have more friends than me. They just tend to rub me the wrong way, so I politely make excuses and fade from the scene.

I had the misfortune to have a super extrovert move in to the same block of units as myself. I first realised my problem when he and his wife came knocking on my door. Somehow or other the pair of them talked their way inside and I had to have some coffee with them while they told me their life story. This was their way of getting acquainted with their new neighbours.

Charles, call me Chuck, was one of those in-your-face, glad-handing, baby-smooching, types with a never ending flow of talk. Not that he ever said anything interesting, but he did love the sound of his own voice. He'll probably go into politics and be a sensation, while I vote for his opponent on principle.

His wife, Margaret (call her Meg), was also an extrovert. Not quite as in-your-face as Chuck, but not far behind. She also loved to talk. When he wasn't talking, she was, and often both of them were chattering at the same time, usually on different subjects and neither saying anything.

I will say this; they were a handsome couple. He must have been pushing thirty but he was quite fit. He played a lot of squash and considered himself to be a champion. One of the interesting little facts that he dropped during his chatter. He'd have to get me down to the courts some day and give me a game. Certainly. Just as soon as I've had my feet amputated.

Margaret was somewhat younger than Chuck, about twenty-five if I'm any judge. She was also quite fit (squash again) and, in my opinion, quite a beauty. She was slender with nice hips, a very nice bottom, and cute perky breasts. They weren't the oversized udders that some find attractive, but a nice B cup, possibly edging onto a C.

I finally managed to edge them out of the house and they headed off to seize their next victim. I breathed a sigh of relief and gave serious consideration to putting up a large fence to keep them out.

You can imagine my disgust when Chuck took a real liking to me. A nice quiet gentleman, he considered me. Someone who really listens when you talk. Translated, I guess that meant I didn't keep on interrupting him to put across my point of view, apparently taking his every utterance as gospel. The more I saw of him the more I saw him as a menace and took steps to avoid him.

After he'd been in his unit a month Chuck decided to hold a big get-acquainted party, inviting all the neighbours so that we could all get to know each other. It'd be a blast, he reckoned. It'd be a blasted headache, I reckoned.

I didn't go. Wild horses wouldn't get me to that sort of do. I stayed firmly at home, trusting that Chuck wouldn't notice me missing in the crowd and, if he did, he'd be too busy glad-handing everyone to do anything about it.

I missed, two out of two. Chuck noticed my absence and he found time to do something about it. He sent Margaret over to fetch me.

She fronted up at my door in her party dress. High hem line showing of a pair of very nice legs, shoulders free with a low neck line that managed to display some very nice cleavage.

"Hi, Mike," she said as soon as I answered the door. "Chuck sent me to see what was keeping you."

"Ah, I won't be able to make it I'm afraid," I said apologetically. "I have a slight medical condition that really makes it wiser not to go."

She was so sorry, wanting to know if she could do anything to help. Exactly what was the problem she wanted to know? I was really going to have to look up a few interesting medical conditions for future reference. As it was I fell back on the simplest.

"It's a nervous complaint," I explained. "It hits me every so often. I'm very much afraid that if I went over to the party I'd have a panic attack. That would just be too embarrassing. I'll just stay home quietly."

Tell me, how do extroverts manage to get into your house? I could have sworn I didn't invite Margaret in, but she was there, all sympathy and bracing advice. I shouldn't give in to nerves, I should face that which frightens me and overcome it. Really, it was essential that I come along to the party. I'd find that I'd enjoy it once I was there and it would let me get acquainted with everyone.

Like, who wanted to get acquainted with everyone? I knew my neighbours by sight and by name. Knew them well enough to lend and borrow tools and things and give a helping hand if required. I didn't need any more than that.

"Margaret," I said, speaking slowly and carefully so she'd get the message. "I am an introvert. I like solitude or company in small doses. One on one is preferable. A party such as the one Chuck is currently holding in anathema to me. It is the sort of thing that makes me want to run away screaming. If I did go I doubt that I'd stay more than five minutes, just long enough to be seen, and then I'd be gone again. And quite frankly, I'm not in the mood to go and waste that five minutes.

As for getting to know my neighbours, I already know them and they know me. Again, speaking frankly, the only neighbour I'd want to get further acquainted with is you, and I wouldn't want to waste that acquaintance talking.

Do you know that you have lovely breasts and that I want to see more of them?"

Margaret looked at me, seeming slightly stunned.

"You don't like parties?"

I bowed my head in gracious assent.

"But everyone likes a party," she said, unable to get her head around the idea.

"No, they don't," I told her. "Some go because they like them, others go because they feel they should and some go because they hope to get laid. Me, I just don't like them and I don't go to them."

"Well, what do you do instead of going to parties?"

"I have other interests. I read. I play chess, both at a chess club and online. And I sometimes take women out on dates. I do have a number of friends, including women in that number. I'm not lonely."

"Oh. So I'll just tell Chuck you're sick."

"That might be best. I don't think he could understand my not wanting to come."

I initially thought that Margaret hadn't really listened to what I'd said. It turned out that she was just a little slow to catch on. I could see her running over my arguments, nodding to herself that Chuck just wouldn't understand what I was saying. The words would have been meaningless to him. Then she blushed and slapped a hand over her cleavage.

"I said more, not less," I told her, reaching up and removing her hand. "But don't let it worry you. It's not as though I'm going to tug your cleavage to the side and expose your breast."

I paused there, giving her a considering look.

"Actually, now that I say that, it sounds like a fine idea."

With those words I reached out, slip a hand over her breast and under her dress and bra and gently tugged it free.

"Yes," I said softly, "I could stand to see a lot more of these."

Margaret was staring down at her breast cupped in my hand, looking startled. Then she gasped and jerked back, hastily adjusting her dress.

"Ah, I think I'd better be going," she said quickly, backing towards the door.

"I've a better idea," I said, not trying to stop her. "How about you stay here for a little longer so that I can have a private get acquainted party with you?"

"I don't think so," she said. "How do I know you wouldn't make another grab? I'd better be going."

"Margaret," I said softly, "if you stay I wouldn't be trying to pet your breast like that until after I had you naked. Why not stay a while. I think I'll enjoy taking off your clothes while you tell me why I shouldn't."

She was blushing nicely, but shaking her head.

"I couldn't do that," she said. "I'm married."

"Interesting. So if you weren't married it would be alright for me to take your clothes off and get better acquainted?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, but you implied it. Why not do it? You don't have to tell Chuck about it."

"I tell Chuck everything," Margaret protested.

"Really? Well, maybe he'll understand. I've heard there are complacent husbands."

While talking I'd been drifting closer until I was standing next to her again. I reached down and lifted her dress.

"You have very nice legs," I said. Then I hooked hold of her panties and started drawing them down.

She gave a squeak, brushed her skirt back into place and tried to grab at her panties which I now had at half-mast.

"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped at me.

"Lowering your panties, of course. It's tactical thinking. The aim is to lure you into my bed. Or onto the couch or the floor or bent over the table, or whatever. The strategy is to make it impossible for you to run away. The tactics are to lower your panties. After all, you're not going to run down the street with your panties around your ankles. Maybe you would if your breasts were showing, but not with your panties dangling."

"You stop that," she hissed at me, clearly upset. "I thought you were a gentleman. Just leave my clothes alone."

"Ah, no, I'm just quiet. That quietness tends to hide the fact that I'm a complete cad. Still, if you insist, by all means pull your panties back up. Here, I'll even make it easier for you."

I politely let go of her panties as requested and, ever thoughtful, lifted her dress so she could pull them up more easily. Curiosity is a terrible thing. With Margaret's dress lifted like that and her panties around her knees she was regrettably exposed, pussy wise. Her skin was white and silky looking and I couldn't help but wonder if it was as smooth as it looked. The only way to tell was to run my thumb over it and this is what I did, stoking lightly over a nicely shaven mons.

Margaret froze, gasping and giving a little shudder.

"What do you think you're doing now?" she said in a sort of strangled scream.

"Oh, sorry," I apologised, probably sounding completely unrepentant. "It's just that you looked so soft and smooth and I was curious as to what it would feel like if I did this."

I demonstrated what I'd just done and she gave another little squawk.

"You just can't do that sort of thing," she protested. "What sort of man are you? People just don't lift a woman's dress and touch her privately."

"Um, I do," I pointed out. "You object to my lifting your dress? I probably wouldn't have done it if you'd kept your panties on."

"You're the one who pulled them down," Margaret practically snarled at me. "And will you stop touching me like that. Let my dress down."

"Oh, sorry again," I said, realising I'd continued absent-mindedly rubbing my thumb back and forth across her mons. Um, dress down, you say."

I let go her dress letting it fall into place. I also reach up and pulled down the zip at the side of her dress. It was cunningly hidden, starting under her arm pit and running right down to below her waist, but I had spotted it when I'd checked out her breast. With a strapless dress, the zip and her boobs were all that held it in place. With the zip open, the boobs were insufficient support.

"There you are," I said smugly as her dress answered the commands of gravity and slithered down her body. "Dress down, as requested."

Margaret managed to look both pale and flushed at the same time. Quite a feat. She also seemed slight scared and a lot pissed off. And with all that going on she still managed to haul her panties back into place. She was glaring at me but very conscious that she was standing there in her undies. A nice matched set, at that.

"I suppose that this means you're going to try and rape me," Margaret said, her voice reflecting her fear and her fury.

"Eh? No way," I protested. "That would be insulting to both of us. I'm just trying to seduce you. Not very effectively it seems?"

"Seduce me? You call ripping my clothes of trying to seduce me? And what do you mean, rape is insulting."

"I didn't rip a single thing," I pointed out virtuously. "That would be crude. And rape is insulting to both parties as it implies that you can't make up your own mind and suggest that's the only way I could get a woman. Neither of those things are correct."

"Yanking off my panties and groping is your idea of sophistication is it? With a technique like that I'd have thought rape was your only chance."

"Now, now. Be nice. I tailor my approach to my target. You're a married woman so I thought that for anything less blatant you would have smiled and ignored it. It's a lot harder to pretend a man doesn't have serious attentions when he's pulling down your panties and stroking you."

Seeing I was right there next to her and her panties were in easy reach again I went ahead and pushed them down. Margaret was almost jumping up and down.

"Will you stop that!" she gasped, hastily pulling them up and pushing my hand away.

"I'll do you a deal. I won't pull down your panties if you just take off your bra for a few moments."

"Not going to happen," came the confident replay.

"Why not? We both know you're going to succumb to my charms sooner or later. Why not make it sooner?"

Oddly enough, I thought that was the truth. All she really had to do was lay down the law firmly, pick up her dress, and leave, but she was sticking around, arguing.

"I keep saying no and you're taking that as agreement? What sort of warped logic are you using."

I waved my hand dismissively.

"Women never say what they mean. They say what they feel they should say. So I'm ignoring what you say and using body language to see what you want and your body language says you want me. Probably out of curiosity at this stage but I think we can generate some good old-fashioned lust once we start."

"So my saying no means I'm really saying yes. And if I say yes you'll think I'm saying no."

"No. If you say yes I'll know you're being honest and I will proceed to take you. Um, you haven't taken off your bra yet."

"Do you seriously think I will?"

"Yes. Your nipples are peaking and pressing against the material. You're dying to see what I think of them."

While she spluttered I took her arm and turned her around. I'm quite good at undoing bras. It only takes a flick of the fingers. Then I turned her back to face me. Her face was burning again and she was clutching her bra to her chest.

I gently took her wrists and pulled them away from her and downwards, letting the bra drop down. Very nice breasts, just to my taste, and I told her so.

"Well, I'm so pleased that you're happy with them," she said sweetly. "Now do you mind if I get dressed and go back to the party."

"I'm pleased that you're pleased," I said politely, "and no, you can't go back just yet. You might as well finish undressing."

"What do you mean, finish undressing? You've got rocks in your head."

"I mean just that," I said, unbuckling my belt. "You're going to take your panties down and I'm going to lean you back against the wall and take you."

Margaret just stood there for a moment, watching as I continued taking off my trousers. Then she swallowed nervously and slid her panties down. I was very careful not to let any hint of triumph appear on my face. She was stepping out of her panties at about the same time as I was stepping out of my trousers and shorts.

I moved slowly towards her. Any undue aggressiveness and she might still panic and change her mind. I carefully cupped her breasts, bending down slightly to lightly kiss each one.

"I don't have to do this, you know?" she muttered. "I shouldn't be doing this."

"I know," I said quietly, pressing lightly against her breasts, easing her back so that she was leaning against the wall. My erection was jutting out in front of me, gently waving near her, as though seeking a friend.

I took her hand and moved it against my cock, feeling her fingers close lightly upon it.

"You do it," I said softly.

She swallowed again, but her hand closed more confidently over me. She pulled slightly, easing me into position, moving her legs slightly further apart as she directed my cock to where it needed to go. I gave an easy little push and I was pressing between her lips. Margaret snatched her hand away, standing there looking down and watching as I slowly penetrated her.

From that start we just went on gently swaying against each other. Neither of us was in a hurry to finish and by an unspoken consensus we just took our time. I'd press in slowly and Margaret pressed just as slowly towards me, accepting me into her.

It was slow but it was intense. The slow drag of flesh against flesh was wreaking havoc within me. It was an erotically arousing experience, my excitement growing by leaps and bounds. After a while I was struggling to keep that nice easy flow going, my needs screaming at me to throw the woman to the floor and take her, going hell for leather and forget about what she wants.

From the flushed look on Margaret's face and her heavy breathing I suspected she was of the same mind, but still we restrained ourselves, just dragging the whole thing out, taking our pleasure and giving it.

Eventually I couldn't take it anymore. I gave a harder thrust and started moving faster. Margaret gave a sob of relief and matched me, encouraging me to keep going, just do it faster, harder. Whatever you do, don't stop.

Now we were banging against each other a lot harder. My hands had dropped away from my gentle caresses of her breasts and had fastened tightly onto her buttocks. I'd drive in, my hands pulling her towards me, not that she needed the incentive. It was more for my peace of mind, knowing that I was doing everything I could to thrust in hard.

Then I was done, jerking hard against her, releasing my seed. She shuddered slightly and then she climaxed, one leg coming up to wrap around me and hold me tight against her while her internal muscles clamped tightly around me, milking me.

Margaret returned to the party without me, taking my apologies. Still, I can honestly say I contributed to the success of the party. It was a get acquainted party, and I had certainly done that.

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