I had to move out of my home of the last ten years when the man I loved told me he didn't love me anymore. I had expected us to one day marry. Instead of asking for my hand in marriage, he asked me to move out. No explanation why, just that he no longer loved me. Heart broke and wounded, I did.
I took my dignity and what meager belongings I had and moved into a quiet cookie cutter neighborhood in the suburbs. It was a far cry from the busy city life I had gotten used to, but it was what I could afford and the commute to work wasn't that bad. It was a chance for me to start over again at thirty five.
I met my neighbors as I was moving in, young couples with children. They made the usual welcome to the neighborhood small talk before heading back into their homes to watch from their windows what the movers were unloading. None of them seemed like people I'd like to get to know better. Then I saw him across the street.
He was mowing his lawn, shirtless. He was tall and strong with muscles that came from hard work, not from the gym. His short brown hair was graying at the temples, but his thick chest hair was still as black as night. His skin was rusty brown from working out in the sun. When he caught me looking he gave me a friendly wave that sent chills down my spine.
I returned the friendly gesture before running inside to hide, fearful that if I stayed any longer he'd know I was lusting after him and come over and beat my ass. All I needed to do was alienate my neighbors before I even unpacked and end up going viral on social media in some front yard brawl.
I wasn't a slouch in the body department. I did yoga and spin classes, but I'm more curvy thick than muscled thin. No matter how hard I work out, it just seemed to plump my butt even more. Eventually I just embraced my figure calling myself a sexy teddy bear. It just fit, especially since my name was Teddy.
After the movers had left, I had boxes everywhere. I didn't have anyone to help me. My family lived far away and my friends were my ex's friends. They chose him in the separation. I threw open the windows and opened the front door to air out any dust I might stir.
My first order of business was putting my bed together. It was brand new and lay in pieces in my bedroom to be. When it comes to things like this, I'm all thumbs. I even sucked at building blocks. I was pouring sweat, angry, frustrated and about to cry when I heard his gravelly voice.
"Do you need some help?" There he stood in the doorway, all hot and butch. From far away he was hot, up close I saw he was handsome with classic. All he needed was a tuxedo and he could be an older Cary Grant. "The front door was wide open." He explained as I admired the salt and pepper stubble that decorated his jaw line.
It took me a moment to bring myself back to reality and realize this wasn't porn and he wasn't here to snake my pipes, so to speak. "No, I'm good." I lied, refusing to let some hyper masculine man come to my rescue. "I can do it." I raised my chin up at him in defiance. "Thank you though."
The amused smirk that crept across his face made me tingle. "I see. Do you always use a butter knife as a screwdriver?" I unconsciously moved the butter knife behind me. "Listen, cupcake, you're obviously need some help, why don't I go grab my tools and some beer while you order us a pizza, preferably with lots of meat."
He gave me a wink and I instantly relaxed. I didn't even take offense to him calling me a cupcake. He left, shouting "Call Toni's Pizza and tell them it's for Mel, they know what I like." We spent the next couple of hours, eating pizza, drinking beer and him putting things together for me. That was the beginning of our quite unusual friendship.
Mel was retired army and didn't work anymore. He came over and fixed things for me, mowed my lawn and did any manly thing I needed. I, on the other hand, helped him with his housework and decorating. For a Gay man, he was bad at both. Eventually we just exchanged keys so we could come and go as we pleased.
More than once I would come into straighten up to bump into some trick he had just bedded. The man was a beast when it came to sex. I jokingly teased him about installing a now serving sign above his bed. He thought it was cute and did it. He said it was easier than carving notches in his headboard.
After a few months, he got on me to get back out there, even if it was a casual encounter. I was hesitant, but eventually agreed since he threaten to send random men to my front door looking to "pound my ass." While I didn't have the luxury of sleeping with men all hours of the day and night, I did do pretty well for myself, and it scratched that itch deep inside.
On the rare Friday or Saturday nights neither of us had "plans" we'd end up in one of our houses watching movies. We'd curl up on the couch together, him with his six pack and me my bottle of wine. We'd end up too drunk to walk home and crashing on the other's couch. It was all second nature to us.
Then it changed. Quite by accident, or so we told ourselves. I was ragging on Mel about his taste in men. Yes, he did lots of different guys, but his preference was young skinny twinks. There was no denying it, especially when I could see the foot traffic in about of his house from my house.
"Admit it." I said teasingly, wrapped in his strong arms as we ignored the movie. "You have to check the ID's of half the men you fuck before you let them in the door." The wine had me giggly. "They are so skinny, how do you not crush them? I bet you wouldn't know what to do with a real man with curves."
"Just because I'm not in every bear's honey pot doesn't mean I don't roam the forest looking for otters, wolves, bears and pigs, Cupcake" His hand was draped across me, casually petting my chest. "Who the fuck came up with all these names for types of people? I need a chart to keep up."
"They come up with them at the annual Gay Congress. If you read the newsletters you'd be up to date." I teased. "Now quit changing the subject. You'd never do a man with real curves like me." I smacked my thigh for emphasis. "At least not more than once before calling a twink to come over to pick your teeth with."
"You sure about that, Cupcake?" I couldn't believe after all this time he was still calling me Cupcake. "When I came over that first day I had every intention of seeing how flexible you were, but you were there trying to put your bed together with a butter knife and I was like fuck, I got to put this bed together so we can fuck."
I looked up at him and saw the truth in his eyes. He leaned down. My lips parted. I could taste the stale beer on his breath as we shared our first kiss. I felt the scratch of his beard on my cheeks. I turned so I was lying in his arms, illuminated by the movie neither one of us was watching.
His hand moved up my shirt, across my smooth bear belly to my meaty pecs. He squeezed my right pec, then ran his finger in slow circles around my nipple. His thick tongue maneuvered in my mouth, tangling with mine. I could feel his arousal press into my back while my own stretched across my underwear.
I pulled back, regaining my senses for a moment. "What are we doing?" My voice was low and raspy. My lips were raw from his sandpaper scruff. Everything save my cock told me to stop this before it went too far. His finger continued its orbit of my nipple, filling my body with horny lust. "We're just two friends having fun." He answered with casual interest. "Just relax and let me get into your honey pot."
I did. My hand reached up and fisted his hair, pulling him back into the kiss. His hand glided down body, across my belly causing sparks to dance across my skin. His hand slipped in the waistband of my pants and into my underwear. He slowly began stroking my cock. "I think we need to move to the bedroom." Came his growl when he broke the kiss.
