Rich Wilson had moved into a seniors apartment complex, relocating after the house he had shared with his wife of 36 years became too much after her passing. At 63 Rich had no illusions about finding a new love, even though the equipment still worked quite well, so he settled into his new digs with no expectations.
Almost immediately Rich was befriended by Charlie Robinson, a silver haired fellow about his age who was going to be his neighbor, and the genial gent even helped him move in. Rich liked the guy even though his outgoing personality was almost the exact opposite of his own.
There was something about Charlie Robinson though, nothing Rich could put his finger on at first but the more they interacted the more Rich was sure he was correct. Charlie Robinson was gay.
It wasn't from anything he had said about himself, because other than mentioning that he too had lost his wife a few years earlier he hadn't made any indication of his sexuality. Rich had concluded that maybe Charlie was bisexual.
Nothing wrong with that in Rich's eyes, since he was as well, or at least that was the way he looked at himself. While he had not been with a man since he met his wife 40 years ago, before then Rich had as many male lovers as female.
Many of those male lovers back then were gentleman who were as old as Charlie, since Rich's baby face and good looks seemed to appeal to the more mature fellows. Rich was no longer a baby faced teen but was in decent shape for a guy his age.
Charlie was a rather handsome fellow as well, at about 6' and bit more than 200 pounds considerably larger than Rich, and Charlie had a neatly trimmed goatee than made him look like a professor Rich once had. Rich had to admit he had found himself fantasizing about his neighbor from time to time, although Rich knew he would never be the one to make the first move because that wasn't in him.
But what if Charlie did? Rich wondered exactly what he would do if what could have easily been construed as just friendly pats on the back or playful squeezes of the shoulder were actually something else altogether?
That question was answered one Wednesday morning when Rich was out on the patio, enjoying the morning sun with a cup of coffee and the newspaper, when the sound of his neighbor's sliding door opening changed everything.
As Rich tells it...
********
"Howdy neighbor!"
The deep baritone of my outgoing neighbor had me smiling even before I lifted my eyes from the paper, making me wonder how anybody could be that jovial before noon, but that was Charlie. "How they hanging?"
"Good morning Charlie," I called over the short distance between our patios, the design of the building making everyone's little porches rather private except for the one adjoining apartment, and I was happy that Charlie was the one I was forced to be familiar with.
As Charlie talked about the outcomes of games I had only moderate interest in, I hid my amusement regarding my new friend's lack of modesty, because while no one could really see our second floor apartment patios unless they were creeping through the wetlands in back of the building and I didn't mind coming out in my pajamas myself, Charlie seemed to delight in outdoing me.
Charlie was wearing a robe, some kind of silky red thing with flaming oriental designs on it, but unlike myself Charlie wore no pajamas underneath it, and just as he had before he made no effort to keep it more than slightly closed, leaving much of his husky body exposed.
As I had done before I showed my lack of disgust by looking, subtly I hoped while we chatted. My eyes took in the parts I could see; Charlie's barrel chest that was covered with a mat of mostly grey hair with dark brown mixed in, the plump man boobs with rather enormous nipples that the hair could not hide, his round belly and of course what was below.
That part of him was something he was obviously proud of, and I couldn't blame him for that. If that fat brown uncut cock was attached to me I would probably be displaying it myself, and as the subject changed to my moving-in progress I couldn't help wondering whether Charlie was testing the waters.
The thought had crossed my mind before, and just as then I wished I had some of Charlie's openness. The pleasure of a man's flesh was something I was not unfamiliar with, although except for one wayward moment during my 36 years of marriage, all of those other gay experiences had been back when I was single.
The one thing all of my homosexual experiences had in common was that I was never the aggressor. All I would do was stand there and act all shy and innocent playing the part of the twink even though I wasn't familiar with the term, but in fact the shyness was always genuine with the innocence part there only in the beginning. If it was left up to me I would likely to have been a virgin my entire life. Even my late wife had to come on to me because I was so lacking in self-confidence.
So I would stand there at a bar or a party or even on the street, and men would be all over me. Why I don't know because I was not remarkable in any way, although I guess I had a kind of boyish charm. Whatever the reason men - especially older men - were attracted. It was like I had a sign on my back announcing that was theirs for the taking, and for a short period of time I didn't say no.
That was in my rear view mirror though but now as a widower I was faced with something I hadn't had to deal with in almost three decades. I was alone and had no one to hold at night or any other time. Pillows had proven to be a poor substitute, but I think that if my equipment didn't still work as well as it did it wouldn't have been so bad.
At 63 I found myself masturbating just about every day, just like in my youth, usually in the shower while thinking about Elizabeth, although I confess to thinking about other people as well.
Charlie was the subject of a very pleasant wank one night the week before as I jerked off while thinking about the very cock I was trying not to look at from across the way, imagining this hirsute older fellow seducing me like many men his age had done in the distant past.
"I'm okay," I told him as I finally answered. "At the rate I'm unpacking boxes I'll probably be dead before I get done, but I've got the essentials unloaded and put away."
"Back still bothering you?"
"A little, but that's nothing new," I replied.
"That offer still stands," Charlie reminded me. "I've got magical hands and may I remind you that I was a trainer for a local semi-pro football team for years."
"It's tempting," I answered like I had before.
"I have this incredible massage lotion going to waste over here," I responded. "Coconut Mango. You'll think you're in the tropics while your aches and pains disappear."
"Well..."
"Come on."
"Let me get dressed," I said as I got up, but Charlie blew that off.
"Come as you are. Those pajamas are like a sweat suit," Charlie said. "Or I could come over there."
"No," I laughed, knowing that this guy would probably waltz down the few feet to my door with that robe wide open. "I'll be there in a second."
As I went to get a robe to put on, I started thinking about what I was doing. There was a chance I was wrong, although I doubted it. He had stood there practically announcing to me - come over and take this cock - and I guess I had given him an answer.
I rubbed a little deodorant on, wishing I took a shower in the mornings like I had during my working years instead of evenings, but after taking a deep breath opened my door and peek out into the hallway before walking quickly next door.
The door opened just as I was about to knock, with Charlie with the robe mercifully closed up welcoming me inside his place, and after offering me a coffee or juice, which I declined, asked me if I was up for a Screwdriver.
