The house next door had been empty for months, so it was a bit of a surprise when a moving truck pulled into the driveway that Saturday morning. I watched, lazily drinking my coffee and wondering who my new neighbor was.
I'd been in the neighborhood for five or six years at that point, comfortable and happy. It was quiet, had some cute little shops here and there, and relatively cheap for what it was. Granted, it was a bit remote, downtown being a smudge on the Eastern horizon. You *could* drive into the city proper, but the traffic got worse as you got closer and there really wasn't much point unless you had business there.
I did a double-take as the new neighbor emerged from the van, carrying a couple of boxes and pitching in as the movers dutifully carted in furniture and mattresses. He was young, maybe in his late twenties, certainly no older than 30. He had a thick ruff of brown hair and was tall enough to be impressive without being intimidating. Underneath his Misfits t-shirt, his shoulders were broad with a wide chest and arms thick with the kind of muscle you get from labor rather than the gym.
He was laughing and joking with the workmen, and did his fair share of the labor alongside the movers. I respect a person who pitches in when there's a large job to be done. I finished my coffee and went out to offer my help to the cute new boy in the neighborhood.
Uh, I mean . . . I went out to give my new neighbor a hand. I certainly didn't have any ulterior motive. Shut up. Don't give me that look.
His name was Austin, and he seemed grateful for the help. He didn't have too much in the way of furniture, but there was a ridiculous number of boxes marked 'books.' More books than would comfortably fit on the amount of shelving the guy had. As we hauled them in and piled them in the cavernous living room of the house, we got to talking and joking and generally making the best of the laborious job it was.
Between us and the movers, we got him unloaded in a few hours. He had cold beers and sandwiches waiting at the end of it all like a class act. He and I took an afternoon break in his new kitchen and cooled off while getting to know one another. A beer or two in, he told me that his grandfather had recently passed away, followed suddenly by his mother. It was kind of a sobering story, and there was clearly a lot of emotion behind it.
He'd found himself suddenly alone with a respectable inheritance and no reason to stay in his cheap apartment in the city anymore. He'd bought himself his first house and taken care of a lot of the sudden responsibility that comes with the passing of a family member. My heart went out to someone who had to face a lot of life's harsh truths before it was really fair. I told him I was around if he wanted to knock back some beers in the backyard while he learned his way around the neighborhood.
I got used to seeing him over the next few months. He was investing a lot into the house he'd bought, and there were a lot of contractors in and out. He was always polite about the noise they'd make and letting me know what was going on, so it wasn't a bother. It just meant that with me working from home and him not needing to work, we saw a lot of one another.
We shared beers over backyard cookouts a few times, and he would wave to me as he went on his morning runs. He kept in shape, but at his age, it was a hell of a lot easier than it was for me. Nevertheless, I did notice him trimming down and filling out as the months went on. It was hard not to notice, really, since he started mowing his lawn shirtless as the weather got hotter.
If I had to point a finger to the moment something really started to happen, I would say it was the morning I decided to move some furniture in my office around.
There was nothing special to the decision, I'd just gotten tired of the way it was laid out and wanted something new. I shoved my desk around and wasted most of the day puttering around. Somewhere around three or so I sat down at my desk, tired but satisfied and looked at my new layout. There were a couple of mirrors here and there, just for something to open up the space, but they now reflected around the room in such a way that I could see one of Austin's windows pretty clearly.
Just an accident, really. But as I realized who's window I was looking at, I also realized I could see in the window, and Austin was clearly visible. He was sitting at a desk, his back to the window, watching what had to be porn on some screen I couldn't see. Why did I think he was watching porn?
Because I could see him jerking off. I had a clear, albeit small, view of his right hand slowly stroking his cock. There's only so many things you can tell yourself before you have to admit that what you're seeing is someone masturbating.
Don't act like I'm the only one who would have kept watching.
I couldn't quite see him cum, but he suddenly shuddered all over, and a few minutes later got up and moved away from the window. I sat there for a few minutes, keeping still and feeling my cock persistently swelling. There was no denying that I was horned up and turned on. The more I thought about him over there, the more I got stiff. I didn't even notice taking out my cock and softly stroking it until I felt my precum on my fingers.
That night I christened my new office layout by jerking off and accidentally cumming all over my laptop keyboard.
It was a little awkward for a couple of days, because we still ran into one another. Not only that, but the thing you tend to forget as a forty-something guy is that a twenty-something guy jerks off a lot. Sure, I crank one out as much as anyone, but Austin jerked off all the time. Not obsessively, but reliably.
Friday rolled around, and we hung out after work in the back yard. I shook his hand as he came over and all I could think about was that it had been holding his dick not a half hour ago. His hand was warm and soft, like it had been moisturized.
I had a hardon the whole time we hung out. We started in the backyard, enjoying the way the night air cooled off the heat. Then gave me a little tour of the place, where eventually we got to his office. I walked around, checking the room out as he went on about his computer's specs.
This was where he jerked off. I imagined the air smelled faintly of cum, just enough to notice. I looked at his chair, thinking about the times I'd watched him sit there blasting knuckle children into the air. I could see the occasional stain on the edge of the chair, where he'd gotten careless a time or two. My cock was raging hard in my jeans as I realized I wanted to sit in his cum chair. I let the conversation continue as I casually sat down, making it look natural. I did my best to pay attention, but all I was thinking about was the times he'd blown his load sitting right there.
I wriggled my ass into the seat, imagining the cum pooled beneath me. Pound, pound, pound went my cock.
I'm not sure how I got through that night as casually as I did. It was hard not to squirm and shift as my dick pressed into my pants. A hard dick can take over your brain and make you think things that you normally wouldn't. I kept stealing glances at his crotch while squeezing my legs together. It didn't help, and I was pretty sure he'd seen how hard I was.
It was after ten when I got up to go home. We'd had a good hangout but I was a few beers in and feeling tipsy. I also had a stiff cock needing to be taken care of. He waited for me at the front door to say goodbye, and there was this moment where our eyes met across the room.
We stood there, looking at each other for a thick moment. There was a clear tension in the air. I didn't even think about it, I just reached down and gave my cock a squeeze. I did it and looked him square in the eye. Not just looking at him, wanting him to *know* I was looking at him while I squeezed my cock. I don't think he even realized it, but he bit his bottom lip just a tiny bit. Then the moment broke. We both sort of snapped out of it and I shook his hand; his warm, stroking, cum-moisturized hand as I left.
Later, I sat in my office, in my own cum chair. I sat there without pants and jerked myself off like a teenager on free wifi. I'd treated myself to a fresh bottle of lube, and I had slathered my dick with way too much and I filled the room with a noise like a drain pump clogged with jello.
I looked at Austin's chair in my mirror and cranked my rod with both hands and writhed my naked ass on my seat. I was so fucking turned on but wanted to let the orgasm build up slowly. It felt like it was going to be a good one.
How long I sat there I couldn't say, but I was into what I was doing when I saw Austin sit down in the mirror. I watched, and it didn't take long before he was jerking off as well. God love him, he was reliable. I shuddered up and down as I watched, trying to match his stroke. He must have been watching porn on his computer, as his right hand would stop occasionally and make mouse-moving motions. I told myself he was feeling the exact same pleasure I was, his cock was swollen and twitching and he was moving closer to the same release I was. When you think about it, it was sort of like I was jerking him off and he was jerking me.
My brain was on hard-dick mode. I have no other explanation for why I got up and walked to the open window.
No mirrors, no reflections, just glass and some distance between Austin and I. We were jerking off together, even if I was the only one aware of it. From his angle he couldn't really see me unless he turned to his right. I was frustrated that he wasn't looking at my cock. It was his fault it was so hard. I stood there and stroked my cock into a froth, willing him to turn and look at what he'd done to me.
Some eternity later, with my orgasm pressing up irresistibly from my balls, with pleasure pinging through my brain like an LED factory on acid, he did turn. He turned at last and saw me, cock pointed right at the window, stroking furiously. I saw him realize he was seeing me and my hard cock, jerking off. I wondered if he realized I was jerking off for him.
His eyes met mine across the fifteen feet of lawn that separated us, and I suddenly came so hard my load flew out the window.
Well, partially anyway. I left a gooey mess on the floor and the wall under the window by the time I was done. It took a minute or two for the after-tremors to still. My hand pumped a few more times on my cock, still gobbing forth a bubble or two of sperm. I leaned against the wall and sagged a bit, breathing deeply.
When I could look up, I saw Austin across the way. He was breathing hard, his arm still and his hand shiny with cum. He was looking at me while I was looking at him, and I realized my orgasm must have given him an orgasm. I smiled to myself at my clever joke, and he smiled back. He gave me a sheepish wave, and then seemed to realize that he was waving at me with cum still running down his arm. He ducked out of sight and I took a deep breath and set out to try and clean up my load so it wouldn't stain my wall.
Saturday morning came, and I wondered where things were going to go with Austin. I was hoping he wasn't put off, hoping he wasn't weirded out, hoping he'd want to do it again. I wondered if he knew how many times I'd watched him get off. I wanted to see his cumrag and look at the crumpled, nasty stains of his past loads.
I didn't see him for much of that day. By the time sunset rolled around however, he was in his yard and I moseyed on over with most of a six-pack for us to share. He looked at me, bashfully, and accepted a beer. After a little hemming and hawing, I finally just decided to deal with the elephant in the room.
"Do you want to talk about last night?" I asked.
