I was 23 in August 1976 and had been living in Philadelphia for a little over two months. Having moved there from the Ozarks of Missouri, I'd expected the big city to be pretty wild and overwhelming, but even I had never imagined the hotbed of sexual activity I found coexisting right under the noses of the stuffed shirts of the large Center City law firm where I worked. It all began on Independence Day, when I went up on the roof of my apartment building to see the fireworks and instead found the married couple three doors down from me getting it on. Being bisexual, I was turned on by both of them and delighted when they were kind enough to let me join them. We spent that night making our own fireworks, and through them I was introduced into the amazing Philly swingers counterculture.
Even with all I'd seen, I was shocked when my next-door-neighbor died. The fact that the man had expired wasn't so amazing--after all, he was 87 years old--but despite the landlord's efforts to keep things quiet the manner of his death leaked out. The old fart had a heart attack while being sucked off by a male escort less than half his age! Everyone in the building was aghast, as the codger had never left any indications of his extracurricular activities, and some of us (like me) developed a whole new, posthumous respect for him. I remember thinking that when I reached the end of my line, it wouldn't be so bad to go out with a young stud's head between my legs!
Being as I never would have guessed, not even in a million years, about my late neighbor I was determined to make an effort to get to know whoever moved in next. The worst case scenario would be I would find out I was living next door to a prude, the median would be that I'd make a casual friend even if not a sex partner, and in the best case...Well, you can probably guess that one. The old man's next of kin cleared out the unit in short order and the landlord found new tenants even before the place was completely ready. Within a month of the man's death a moving van pulled up outside and I nearly fell out the window in my efforts to get a look. I wasn't disappointed. Two big, burly black guys in their early thirties started unloading the furniture. It was one of those self-move vans; they hadn't hired anyone to move them and they hadn't needed to because they were built like trucks. They were both about the same height, but one guy had very dark skin and a short-cropped Afro, and the other was more of a coffee color and had a beautifully shaved head. I salivated as I watched the sweat bead on their bare torsos and I kept hoping that their tight jean shorts would tear when they bent and stooped. I wondered if they would like me, a tall white boy with an all-American, blond-haired look and an athletic swimmer's build.
I waited until that evening to knock on their door, a six-pack in hand. The coffee-colored guy answered, water dripping from his body and a towel wrapped around his waist. "Hi, I thought you guys might be thirsty after moving all day," I said. "I'm Doug; I live right next door."
My new neighbor smiled and took hold of the proffered beer. "Thanks, man. Come on in." I walked into the apartment, stepping around the boxes and household items scattered on the floor. The couch and coffee table had been set up and I took a seat. "I'm Nick," he said, handing me a beer and taking one for himself. "Rodney's still in the shower, but he'll be out in a few minutes. I'll let him know you're here." As he walked away, his towel slipped and I got a momentary glimpse of his iron-hard ass.
After a few minutes, both men emerged, dressed in nothing but sweatpants that had been cut off into shorts. I scooted over to one end of the couch and they sat beside me, next to each other. We talked about superficial things, such as the weather, and I found out that Rodney and Nick were native Philadelphians, the former from the Northeast and the latter from South Philly, who had moved back to the city from Delaware County. They met on the job; they worked for a construction company that had a work site not far from my own office. Talk turned to the neighborhood and our building in particular. Rodney and Nick seemed to be sitting very close to each other and touching each other a little bit more than straight guys would, but I wanted to set out some feelers and I figured the subject of what happened to the last tenant would make a good front. I asked if they knew what happened to the guy who used to live in their new apartment. When they shook their heads, I laughed and told the story in a light-hearted manner.
