Good Neighbor

I'd known he was interested in me even if he hadn't been making moon eyes at me at the neighbors' dinner on Sunday night. I was surprised the others at the gathering couldn't see it. He'd been watching me doing my daily swim for most of the summer. I hadn't realized the people who invited us even knew Dan.

It was the neighbors across the street from us, Gail and Chase, who we traded house checking and mail pickup with when either of us was on vacation, who had invited us over. They'd also invited Dan from around the corner. We lived in a neighborhood whose residents primarily were connected with the university in some way because we were only three blocks from the edge of the campus. My wife, Julie, was a medical researcher there. I'd been a pro tennis player and worked with the university's tennis squad. Gail was the university registrar, and her husband, who'd been a chemistry professor, had turned that life in in favor of landscaping gardens. Dan was a research librarian at the university library.

It turns out that Dan's mother had been a family friend of Gail's family. They didn't say so, but they'd invited him to dinner with us on their back screened porch to check up on him and to cheer him up. His mother had died that winter. The two of them had lived together in a split foyer house, where she had the upstairs, with three bedrooms, and he had the downstairs with two bedrooms and a home office. He was able to work at home a couple of days a week to help look after her as her health deteriorated. She'd taken over a year to die and that had taken a toll on her son.

He obviously was gay—in contrast to me—meaning it wasn't obvious, I didn't think, that I wasn't fully hetero. I don't think anyone would have guessed that I was bi and actually preferred men. Dan was good-looking, in his mid-thirties, with a slim body and a somewhat effeminate way of carrying himself. I think he'd had boyfriends before he and his mother moved in together, but that probably had been avoided from that point forward. His mother likely knew he was gay but, just as likely, they'd never discussed it. He probably hadn't been fucked for ten years. Even I could tell at the gathering that he was jittery and tense. Others, I'm sure, thought it was from the loss of his mother. I thought it more likely from not having been fucked good for a long time.

He kept up with the conversation at dinner, but he was reserved—except that I kept noticing him giving me a longing look when he thought no one—but maybe me—was looking. By the end of the evening, I was pretty sure he was signaling to me. He had every reason to know I was active with men even though the rest didn't. Guys of that persuasion have a radar for such things, but I had made it quite obvious to him.

I'd brought it on myself, I guess. His yard was connected to ours in back. In all, five yards abutted ours. His was the only one with a line of sight on our swimming pool, though, where I liked to swim laps every warm morning. We had a nice pool, and there had been gates between our back yard and the other five since before we lived there. Apparently, our pool was used by the whole neighborhood at one time. I'd retired from professional tennis at thirty with a pile of money—you can make very good money even though you never rose to the semifinals of a big tournament—so, other than dabbling in work with the university tennis team, I had little to do other than keep myself in shape.

I was narcissistic, I admit. I liked being in shape and I liked having a cut body—and an overall tan. Sometimes I swam with a pouch swim suit and sometimes I swam and sunned myself in the nude. I didn't think I had to worry about being seen. The only window in another house that had a good shot of our pool area was that second floor of the split foyer where Dan's mother was bed bound—on the other side of her house from my yard—and dying.

I hadn't kept track of when she died and hadn't thought that maybe Dan would move upstairs. Whether he did or not, he started coming to the upstairs window when I was swimming—and staying there as I lay out on a pool bed to dry off—either in a pouch bikini bathing suit or the altogether.

When I noticed that he was watching, I teased him, without revealing that I knew he was there. He initially hid behind the curtains, but as he became aware that I knew he was there and it didn't affect what I did, he increasingly came out from behind the curtains. Eventually, he made no pretense about watching me. I started masturbating sometimes while lying on the pool bed after swimming. So, I guess it was my fault that I added to the poor guy's frustration and to his loneliness after his mother had passed.

I wasn't even thinking of Dan being in the window, watching, the day that I brought Champhorn, a Thai sophomore tennis player, home for a swim in the pool with me and to suck off my cock as I sat on the rim of the pool and he stood in the shallow end, his arms around my waist and his mouth making love to my cock and balls. For the finish, I laid on my back on the pool bed and Champhorn, saddled on my hips, rode me in a cowboy. When I let my gaze drift around to the trees while I was holding the waist of the cute, lithe Thai tennis player as he was bouncing on my shaft, I saw Dan standing there, in his window, watching us.

That must have been when Dan realized that not only was I built and liked to walk around in the raw or nearly so and even jacked myself off on occasion on my back at the pool, I also got it on with men and topped them. I certainly made that clear to him that day, because, even knowing he was up there, watching, I put Champhorn under me on all fours, fucked the shit out of him, and went off to the shower, leaving him collapsed on the pool bed, arms and legs dangling off the side, a silly expression on his face, purring, and blowing bubbles.

So, at dinner that Sunday night, I tried to be very nice to Dan. He apparently saw that as interest and, yeah sure, he was about my age and very good-looking—and obviously a total submissive. So, yeah, I was interested.

And when Gail and Chase told us of the rough time Dan was having adjusting to his mother's death and coming back into society, I felt guilty too.

"I think I'll take a loaf of your homemade bread around to Dan," I said when Julie and I got home. "He's asked me to help with information on research he's doing on Arthur Ashe, the tennis player, so I might be over there for a while."

"Fine with me, Max," she said. "Remember that I'm off to Charleston in the morning for a few days to visit Beth. You'll have to batch it."

"I'll manage," I said.

Dan had his front door open when I came up the walk—it was like he expected me to show up. It made the next forty-five minutes easier. At that point, I considered that I was just on a guilt-ridden mission of mercy. It was only later that I appreciated what a sweet lay he was.

* * * *

I fucked him that first time on the floor of what would have been his living room in the downstairs of the split foyer house. We kissed just inside the door and the kissing, adjusting of clothes, and fondling continued on a downstairs sofa. I made sure the curtains to the outside windows were closed. I had my torso raised by stiff arming the arm of the sofa and suspending my pelvis over his face as he lay on the sofa under me and sucked my cock. I was surprised that he wanted to take my cock in his mouth so soon, but he begged to suck me, so I sank my cock between his lips. He had a soft, talented mouth. Some things about him I didn't particularly like. Others I did. It was a mercy fuck, though, so I didn't dwell on what I didn't like any more than I had to. Once we got going, he had a mouth and a hole and a warm passage, so it was all good.

Once we got started there was no shyness in him. He wanted our torsos and cocks exposed, he wanted his hands on my muscular torso, and he wanted his mouth on my cock. He wanted to deep-throat me, and he did a good job of it for not having been spiked for some time.

He wanted us to be completely naked when we fucked, which was fine with me. He had a nice body, and I knew I had a great body and didn't mind showing it off or using it. I wasn't a complete drone on the career front. I did commercials, and I liked being in good shape for them. He couldn't get enough of me, running his hands over my body and telling me how beautiful it was. My concern was getting my dick in his hole. He gave me no fight in achieving that goal.

He begged for me to be inside him, and when we got there, we rolled off onto the floor, with Dan on his belly and, at first, me stretched out on him, covering him close and slowly giving him four thick inches, not knowing how much he could take, especially after some time of not getting any, but he urged me on, raising his tail to me, begging me, "Fuck me good; fuck me hard; make me feel it." I got my feet under me then, straddled his hips, gave him the other three inches, and rode his ass, pumping him deep. I fucked him good and hard, and he let me know he was feeling it. He squealed like a girl.

"Fuck, you're big!" he cried out. Yep, I was, thick and long. I was proud of that.

"Shit, I've never had it like this!"

Lucky you now, then I thought. You'd get it better from me, though, if you took it more like a man. Stop with the limp-wristed hand at my neck, fingers running through my hair, girlie begging for kisses crap.

And then when I turned him again, got my knees under his buttocks and an arm around his waist, he just lay, docilely in my arms, his torso arched back and his arms straight out in a sacrificial position, moaning softly, moving his pelvis almost imperceptibly with me, as I slow pumped him to a finish, giving him all of it in long, slow slides, and chewed on his nipples. He went all effeminate on me then, which I didn't like all that much, but I was too close to getting off for it to make much difference.

He took it. He wanted it. He wanted it again right after I'd come, and I carried him back to the bedroom area—he insisted we use a guest room rather than his bedroom. I laid him out on his back on the bed, slapped his thighs open, and came down hard between his legs. I fucked him hard and rough that second time and he took it like he'd been dreaming of it ever since he'd started watching me at the pool. And maybe he had.

"Yes, yes, rough. Harder. like that. I knew you'd fuck rough," he cried out. So, I did him even rougher, pounding him hard, giving him what he was saying he wanted from me.

I fucked him in a missionary, and he clutched me to him, his claws buried in my shoulder blades, his grip opening and closing to the rhythm of my thrusts, his face buried in the hollow of my shoulder and sobbing quietly as we rocked back and forth on each other, giving added motion to my cock inside him. I pulled it nearly all the way out and slammed it back in, again and again and again, trying to pull him out of the virgin girl being deflowered game. And he clutched at me and yelled. "Yes, yes, oh shit, yes!"

There didn't seem to be any suggestion I was taking liberties with him. He was sobbing, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

As I was finishing him, he lay back, threw his arms to the side in a motion of total surrender to me, turned his cheek to the mattress, and took on the glazed look of someone who had been totally conquered. He had been tight at the beginning, but he opened up nicely too me and the muscles of his passage walls milked my cock deliciously. He was a sweet lay if you overlooked the girlie poses—far better than I had expected.

It was no chore at all. When I rose off him, I muttered that I was sorry and just went back to the living room, pulled my clothes back on, and left his house. He probably thought I was sorry for nearly raping him. What I was sorry for, though, was for cock teasing him and adding to his frustration at a bad time. I determined then to make it up to him. I didn't want him as my boy toy—he was a bit too effeminate for my long-term tastes, but I'd see what I could do to fix him up with someone else.

"Did he like the bread," Julie asked me when I got home.

"Sure did. He squealed like a girl," I answered.

"He

is

sort of obvious, isn't he?" she called back.

"More than sort of," I muttered and went right off to the shower so that she couldn't smell the cum I'd repeatedly pulled out of him on my body.

* * * *

The next day, all alone, I lay masturbating myself on the pool bed when Dan came to his window. I motioned him down, not knowing if the night before had been too overwhelming for him to want more. But he did want more. In just a few minutes he was coming through the gate between our properties, in a Speedo, and was mincing his way across toward me. I could have done without the mincing walk, but his slim body was still as nice in the daylight as it had been the previous evening in the dark. He'd turned all of the lights off when he'd fully realized I'd come to fuck him and we'd copulated in the dark, as if he didn't want to shine any light on what we were doing.

I couldn't stay hard with the image of his effeminate ways as he moved toward me, so I got off the pool bed and dove into the pool. He came in after me and, as I started swimming laps, he did so, as well. He was a good swimmer, keeping up with me. When I thought of him more as an athlete than a limp-wristed librarian, my arousal increased and I went hard again. I pulled myself up to sitting on the rim of the pool and, seeing my hard on, Dan dog paddled over to me and took my cock in his mouth. I reclined back on my elbows and watched his head bobbing in my lap. He gave great head—he'd done so in the dark the previous night and he did so in the light today, as well. The sap rose in me and I pulled him out of the water, put him on my cock, facing me, and we rocked back and forth against each other.

He was plastered in front of me, like a monkey, and had his hands all over me, as my cock explored his passage seven inches deep. He wanted to kiss me everywhere and settled on nursing my nipples. I wasn't wild about the clinging aspect of this, but the cum was burbling up in me and took me to an ejaculation. He'd already come up my belly.

We embraced there, rocking back and forth. "I want you to do me like you did that Oriental guy the other day," he whispered.

So, I took him to the pool bed, put him down on his belly, mounted his ass, plugged him, and pounded him. When I left him to take a shower, I left him the same way I'd left Champhorn—flat on his belly, arms and legs dangling off the side of the bed, a silly expression on his face, and purring and blowing bubbles.

It hadn't been the same as with Champhorn, though. Champhorn was a man's man. His body was smaller than Dan's was, but he went with the fuck like a man would. He didn't get all deflowered virgin on me when I was finishing him, as Dan tended to do.

This wasn't going to go much further. I could keep it up thinking of a guy as fresh meat, a new challenge. But Dan gave it up too quickly and too much like a girl. I'd have to find some way to let him down and go easily.

The answer came with an invitation from Alec up the block from me, a university drama professor in his early fifties. He was having a party to watch the U.S. Tennis Open semifinals on TV at his house.

Alec was a gay top. He was gray and maybe a bit paunchy, while still pretty well muscled up for a guy his age. He was a little more effeminate than I normally liked to cruise with, so I didn't. But he was a top. He'd had one of his graduate students living with him, until the guy went out to California to try to break into movies. I didn't know how Alec did in bed, but his graduate student had always looked very satisfied when I saw him working in Alec's yard.

And I must admit that I felt a little guilty about Alec in a similar way to how I felt about Dan. I had done Alec wrong. Seeing the graduate student working in Alec's yard one hot day and looking like he was about ready to die with a heat stroke, I'd invited him back to take a cooling dip in my pool. I'd taken a dip in him in the pool, pushing him up against the side of the pool; barking for him to put his knees on my hips, which he did; and fucking the stuffing out of him. He'd come back for more a couple of times. Neither of us had told Alec I was sharing his graduate student with him.

I know, I wasn't being a very good neighbor with Alec. But here was a chance to make it up to him.

* * * *

Alec greeted me at the door with a "Well, who have you brought along, Max?" greeting. His eyes had gone directly to Dan, who was giving the host the glad eye too.

"This is one of our neighbors, Dan, from around the corner on Brevington," I said. "I hope you don't mind that I brought him along."

"No, not at all. Not at all. The men are gathered back in the den in front of the TV," he said, offering an arm to Dan rather than me. As we walked back, I had a little smile waft across my face. The two had gravitated toward each other like magnets.

As I suspected it would be, it was an all-male party—and all gay male at that. Alec wasn't a bit subtle. He was out, way out, his tenure secure at the university, nothing less expected of someone working in the theater. In no time, Alec and Dan were wrapped around each other in a corner and kissing and feeling each other up as it was an all-Swiss slug fest on the TV, Federer racketing it out with Wawrinka in the U.S. Tennis Open finals up in New York.

I wasn't bored because Alec had invited Champhorn for me. When I was coming back from one of the guest rooms early into the follow-on Murray-Djokovic match following Federer's surprise knockout of Wawrinka, where I had bent Champhorn over the bed and ravished his ass, I stopped, arrested by the sounds of sex, and looked into the master bedroom.

Alec was humping Dan on the bed in a missionary. Both of the men were naked, both of them were having a ball balling and being balled, and Alec was proving to be more than competent at the fuck. Dan was in what apparently was a favorite damsel-being-ravished pose, Alec's knees pushed under his buttocks, holding Dan arched back toward the bed, limbos all akimbo, a "Mom, the big bad man is fucking my snatch" expression on his face as he did the dying swan routine with his limp-wristed arms.

I left the house, without Dan, whistling and feeling fully free of a millstone that had been hanging around my neck.

To solidify the change of guard, I invited Alec, Dan, and Champhorn to a swim party at my house the day before Julie was to return from Charleston. Dan gravitated right to Alec, assuring me that the fuck at Alec's house had taken effect for both of them, and Alec fucked Dan in the pool while I fucked Champhorn on the pool bed.

A couple of weeks later, as I was driving home from the university tennis facilities, I drove by Dan's house and say the "For Sale" sign on the lawn in front of it.

"What gives with Dan selling his house?" I asked Julie when I walked into the house. She was part of a Saturday morning neighborhood kaffee klatch where everything—and I hope not simply everything—going on in the neighborhood was hashed over, so I assumed she'd know what was behind house sales.

"Oh," she said, giving me a little "scandalized, but not really" smile. "Dan is moving in with Alec up the street. He said his house was too big for him anyway and had sad memories since his mother had died there."

Yeah, I thought, but I think he found the view from a second-floor window there to his liking. Still, I was happy. My turn at being a good neighbor had panned out.

That didn't stop me, though, from having two fast-growing, tall funeral cypress trees planted in the back garden in just the right place to obscure the view of the pool area from the second floor of Dan's former house. Our friend across the street, chemistry professor-turned-landscaper Chase, put the trees in for me.