Click cover to enlarge it
It was Henry David Thoreau, in Walden, who remarked, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” This statement appears to be just as true today as it was then.
The majority of today’s men and women live in an overcrowded, competitive, noisy world. Most are put into slots and walk on a treadmill — going to boring jobs, living in carbon-copy houses, socializing with the same people. Their desperation is reflected in the rising rate of divorce, alcoholism, drug addiction, and at times is frighteningly released through violent and seemingly unmotivated crime.
The fictional characters in this story are desperate people, like their real-life counterparts. Bored, frustrated, unhappy, they seize the first opportunity for release. In their need, they cast aside morals and scruples, determined to live only for the moment, to grab at pleasure before it is taken away.
NEIGHBORS ARE FOR LOVING is a novel about the quiet desperation in so many of us — and the extremes to which it may drive us.
Darn Harry anyway, Cindy thought. He was always on the road. They’d only been married for two years — barely more than newlyweds — and some months he was gone more than he was at home. It wasn’t that they’d had enough time together to get tired of each other, or that they had grown too old and worn to enjoy some good, hard sex. In fact, that was one of the stickiest problems that this crazy salesman job of his created — leaving her at home with a horny cunt and an itch in her clit that she hadn’t found a way to completely scratch for herself.
Not that she didn’t try, she giggled to herself, wiggling on the blanket as the warm sun bathed her naked skin. If she hadn’t had her little friend, George the dildo, to keep her at least halfway busy when her husband was gone, she didn’t know what she would do.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.