My Neighbors' Bodyguard

Life with Marissa is a challenge. Sexually, anyway.

Don't get me wrong, she's great. She works hard and earns a lot of money. So while I work on my novel I don't have to have some job. That's part of my problem. Some days the writing goes well, other days ... not.

The other part is of the problem is having a wife who travels a lot for her high-paying job. That leaves a guy with plenty of time on his hands, especially when the writing isn't going well.

And when you have the sex drive of a 30-year-old, that plenty of time can seem extra plenty.

Of course masturbation helps to keep things under control.

Though that's only fun up to a point.

And I have to be careful there, as my writer's imagination sometimes takes my fantasies in strange directions. I'm careful not to let them get too weird.

I could find a lover.

That's not me, though. I'm not a cheater.

I really love Marissa, so having a lover on the side just feels ... wrong.

Maybe it also comes from my strict upbringing--it was drilled into me that you don't have sex before marriage, and you don't have sex outside of marriage. And you don't do any of the perverted gay or fetish things that modern society seems to think is okay. I'm not as prudish as all that, but still there are lines that shouldn't be crossed.

Or maybe I'm kidding myself about being so moral, and it's only that I haven't been put to the test of temptation.

But I do get unbearably horny sometimes, like I'm going to explode, and that's my biggest problem.

* *

I stay home mostly in our wonderful big house. We live in a neighborhood where the homes are widely spaced and people generally keep to themselves. I write, or I don't write, and the days go by.

So when some new people moved into the neighborhood--actually, into the house behind ours, partially hidden from view by all the trees--I thought it might be nice to have someone to visit or have a chat with once in a while. So I decided to make an effort to meet the new couple.

I'd observed them for a few days as they settled in. Maybe they were a few years older than Marissa and me. They drove expensive cars and appeared to have been successful relatively young. Now they had a lot of life ahead and a lot of money and could do whatever they wanted.

From a distance they looked normal, even pleasant and charming. We waved if we happened to see each other outside, like the other day when I was out doing some yard work and yesterday when I was out tanning by the pool. I thought they might make good friends.

The only odd thing was that they seemed to have a bodyguard. A big guy who moved like he was ex-military or something. He was outside whenever one of the couple was outside, and he had this air of alertness and vigilance about him.

Or maybe he was just a combination of chauffer and personal assistant to the couple.

I put on some nice summer slacks, combed my hair, and slipped into my flip flops. Then I gathered my courage and headed over with a fruit basket I'd arranged as a welcome gift for them.

* *

I'd overdone the fruit basket a little, and it took both hands to hold it and the fruit almost hid me. I had to turn sideways to greet the woman when she opened the door for me. I told her who I was and said I just stopped by with a housewarming gift.

In a direct and friendly way, she looked me up and down, the beginnings of a pleasant smile on her face.

Then she surprised me and asked me to wait a moment--and shut the door on me. I stood there and got a little pissed.

I waited a couple of minutes. Then I started to walk away when the door opened and they were both there, the man and the woman both smiling, welcoming me in. I put on a big smile too and went inside, expecting someone to take the basket.

I was about to suggest it--when suddenly I felt some hands go up under my shirt and move all over my stomach and chest. Then the hands slid around my torso to run up and down my back.

I swiveled my head--and saw that it was the bodyguard! I froze at this unexpected groping, and I didn't want to drop the fruit basket.

"We hope you don't mind," the man of the couple said. "For our security we like to be sure that our guests are not armed or wearing a wire."

I didn't know what to say. Of course I wasn't wearing a wire! And where would I hide a gun in the light summer clothes I was wearing?

But in the interest of neighborliness, I didn't protest. Some people have strange customs, and that's just the way it is.

The couple were admiring my basket of fruit, still making no attempt to relieve me of it. Meanwhile the bodyguard was running his hands up and down my back and shoulders and along my arms.

Then his hands dropped to my butt, and I couldn't believe the invasiveness of his strong fingers as they check around my hips and between my thighs.

The woman of the couple finally said "Thank you" for the fruit basket and took it from me, while the man asked me to turn around so the bodyguard could check my front.

They also took a step back to make room for the big man to get at me. He quickly knelt down and grabbed my ankles, working his way up my legs. But he stopped at my thighs, before standing up and running his hands again over my chest and stomach.

I have to confess: The strangest feeling came over me. The man's sure hands and fingers running over me and probing me was almost erotic. And having a powerful male body so close to mind made me feel relatively powerless. I am not a weak man, but being under the control of this larger, stronger guy had an unexpected effect on me.

And I could see the couple standing there, amused smiles on their faces, as they watched him touch me at will.

Then the man's hands moved from my stomach to my hips, pausing there, and all of us looked down at my crotch.

I was suddenly embarrassed, because it was obvious that I had gotten an erection from being handled. My lightweight slacks had tented out, and even a drop of moisture from my penis had leaked out to show a liquid spot on my pants.

Then it got worse, for the bodyguard's hands went directly to my crotch, squeezing and probing me there. We could all see the liquid spot expanding.

My predicament sent a rush of excitement through me. They could see that I wasn't going to bolt for the door. The woman simply set the fruit basket on a side table, and returned to watching their bodyguard's hands moving carefully over my hips, thighs, and crotch.

I gently tried to push the hands away, but I didn't really mean it and they could see that.

I managed to croak out the words, "Is he almost finished?" but they both stood back and watched, their eyes focused at my crotch, with amused grins. I didn't know what to say, and couldn't speak if I did, gripped as I was by the eroticism of the strange situation.

Gradually I stopped struggling, realizing that if they weren't going to help I had no chance. I couldn't even run. I just stood there with this stupid, far-off stare, letting their bodyguard caress and probe away at my aroused groin.

I suddenly felt a rush of air in that area, as the button and zipper of my pants closed gave way and with a brush of his hands the bodyguard pushed them halfway down my thighs.

Then his hands grabbed my penis directly, and his strokes were driving me crazy. I was so sensitive, and it felt so damned good. I didn't want it to stop. My arms hung limply at my side as the couple began talking to me as though nothing out of the ordinary were going on. I tried to pay attention, and nodded frequently. The novelty of the situation added to the excitement. They were playing some sort of sexual game with me and I began to like the game very much.

After several long minutes, the woman came closer and asked if I'd like to sit. She took my elbow and led me, saying, "Just ease back slowly, my dear boy."

I eased back taking baby steps, trying not to disturb the bodyguard's hold on my crotch. When the back of my knees encountered the sofa, I collapsed back onto it. The bodyguard--I didn't even know his name--went down on one knee to maintain his grip on my erect cock, and now increased his pace of stroking. The couple took seats on either side of me, while the man's hands were making me mad with lust.

Without warning my orgasm erupted, and my sperm shot up into the air, splashing down onto my belly, onto my thighs, some running down my shaft and over my balls and disappearing down between my legs. I soon felt my own liquid wetness reach my anus, where it felt warm and sticky.

I couldn't believe what had happened. And so fast. I must have been extra horny today, since Marissa had been gone for so long. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had such a powerful orgasm so quickly.

The woman leaned over and examined my sperm-splattered stomach and thighs, saying, "I'd better get something to clean that mess up for you. Just sit tight, dear boy."

With sperm cooling on my skin, I sat waiting. Her husband simply smiled. He said they'd seen me across the way and were glad I'd come over. He said I reminded him of an actor in a certain movie and wondered if I'd seen it. I said I hadn't but would remember to.

It was strange talking casually with him, half naked on their sofa while we waited for the woman to return. I tried to act nonchalant, but my eyes kept returning to the bodyguard standing above me. His eyes were simply staring at me with erotic intent

When the woman returned with a warm wash cloth, she set about wiping my stomach, and then pushed my pants fully off, "so that we can clean everywhere." She applied the wash cloth to my legs, lifting each higher than was necessary, putting the mess between my legs on display.

She raised one leg so high and wide that she exposed my wet anus. Her husband peered between my legs while she worked, taking her sweet time about it. I thought about covering myself, but something in me liked having their eyes on my nakedness. I simply lay back and allowed her to do as she pleased.

She took this as a silent assent to further expose and humiliate me. She raised my leg straight up, making more of the sperm run down my inner thigh toward my anus. My shirt was now also scrunched up around my neck. The man sat on the forward edge of the sofa looking directly at my crotch, making no attempt to conceal the fact that he was staring at my cock and balls. She did not clean quickly and efficiently but was taking her time, dabbing at the sticky mess and sometimes spreading it around more.

I could not believe they were treating me this way. They looked and talked so normal. Nothing seemed to faze them. You'd have thought the bodyguard had merely made me spill a glass of wine in my lap.

Some silent signal passed between the three of them. I gazed up at the bodyguard, and watched him then peel off his black t-shirt to reveal a powerful chest and flat stomach. He undid his pants and in one fluid motion pushed them down and off his legs. Then he stood naked above me as I remained sprawled back on the sofa. He was a hard man in every way--prominent muscles and lined abs, strong arms and defined thighs.

And a very hard cock pointing straight at me.

I had never had sex with a man before. Yet somehow in the ten minutes that I'd been inside their house I'd been transformed into someone who desperately wanted to do whatever this powerful man and this couple wanted to do.

Soon I found out. The man's eyes seemed to bore into me as he looked at my bare chest and thighs, roaming from my face down to my crotch--as he started to masturbated himself, stroking his long cock faster and faster while his legs anchored him to the ground between my spread legs.

The woman said, "We really appreciate you indulging our bodyguard. His name is Donovan. He has his needs too, though perhaps his needs are different from most men's."

I could only nod that I understood.

She continued. "Most guys would have bolted at the first feel of a strange man's hands grabbing their bodies. We especially appreciate you allowing him to relieve himself on your lovely body. It is lovely, isn't it, Patrick?"

The man said, "Oh yes, Justine is right. We could tell that you had a fine body when we saw you out tanning yesterday, but up close you're even more handsome."

So their names were Justine and Patrick. Somehow it seemed appropriate that we were finally on a first-name basis.

They continued talking throughout all this, while Donovan the bodyguard's hand was reaching a fevered pace of stroking and his breathing became more forced. His cock seemed to be getting thicker and darker in his pumping hand, and his testicles swayed heavily with the motion.

--Suddenly hot jets of white spurted from his cock. The first stream landed on my chest and a second even stronger stream hit my face and hair. There was a momentary pause before a third and final long stream landed on my crotch, covering part of my penis and testicles with his sperm.

The bodyguard's stroking hand slowed to a stop, and a heavy silence filled the air.

Justine leaned over and gazed right at my crotch and said, "Quite lovely." Patrick looked at my sperm-spattered face and said, "Very handsome. By the looks of things, I'm sure Donovan was well pleased with you."

* *

After a few more moments of exchange like this, they helped me sit up and then to stand weakly on my legs. Patrick gathered my pants and flip flops from wherever they'd been tossed and gave them back to me as a bundle, and Justine placed the wash cloth on top of them as they guided me to the front door.

"Donovan's sperm looks lovely on you, and you can enjoy that at your leisure. But take this cloth for when you decide to clean yourself. You can wash it and return it to us later."

At that, Patrick ushered me through the door. My legs still felt shaky, and I was holding my bundled pants and flip flops away from my body to avoid getting any of the sticky mess on them.

As I passed outside he said, "Come back anytime. We're sure Donovan will be pleased to see you again."

The door closed behind me and I could hear their faint laughter.

* *

I left their house in a stupor. I trotted though our yards to my house, the trees hopefully preventing any passing eyes from seeing my state.

After two days, I went back.

In the meantime Marissa came and went on another trip. She was home for all of one day. We had pleasant sex late that night. But I have to admit that I was distracted, my imagination preoccupied in other directions.

For two day I was in a state of quiet shock, trying to adjust to what that unexpected encounter had sparked in me.

* *

When our eyes met at their front door, they knew exactly why I was there. And I knew that they knew.

I offered Justine the wash cloth, now laundered and neatly folded. We all knew what that meant. No explanation needed.

She invited me in as Patrick went to the patio and called for their bodyguard, Donovan.

The same thing happened again, but I was much better prepared for it, mentally anticipating and physically needy. They were also more daring and at ease. Nothing overt was said. We played the game. Donovan took one look at me and his hands went directly for my crotch. I made no move to prevent access to my groin and remained standing under his hands' assault much longer than the first time. This time when I sat on their sofa, I purposefully sat in a slump to extend and spread my legs more. When he stood above me between my open legs, his cock pointed purposively at me. When he shot his load, the ropy strands went directly onto my stomach, along the insides of my thighs, and some hit my crotch. This time, the woman cleaned me and my crotch very thoroughly under her husband's watchful eyes. She had my shirt folded up high on my chest, ostensibly to make sure she got it all.

I found an excuse to stop by pretty much every other day. We played pretend games. The perverse things we did wrapped in a cover of conversational normalcy made it more fun for all of us. After several visits I'd lost my inhibitions about what lines shouldn't be crossed.

I stopped wearing underwear. Or I'd leave my shirt unbuttoned and be already half undressed when they opened their door. Or I'd wear only a thong that I used for tanning, arriving breathless at their front door after dashing through the trees that divided our yards. I was suddenly in love with finding new ways to display my body for them.

Donovan's favorite thing was to masturbate himself while he looked at my body and then to shoot onto me. The hot splashes of the man's sperm on my skin was both degrading in some dark way and also incredibly erotic. The man and the woman seemed to love especially the clean-up ritual after. The woman found clever ways of displaying my naked groin to her husband and explaining the clean-up.

"Oh look, some more has dripped down his inner thigh here." And she would have Patrick raise my legs higher so she could get to it.

She pretended that some of the semen that had slid down to my anus had gone inside my hole. She had her husband hold my legs out wide while she swabbed my opening, commenting how cute it looked. I'd never heard of an anus described that way, but Justine and Patrick seemed delighted by it.

After that, we became more brazen. We'd start the sessions by having me walk around semi-naked, wearing whatever clothing I'd brought that felt sexy. I'd put on a little show for Donovan's benefit while the couple sat on their sofa and made comments.

Or we would drag out the sessions after the bodyguard had masturbated onto me. They'd have me walk around naked, his sperm still on my body as I paraded around.

I loved it our silly games, but my fantasies were running away with me, and I wanted more.

They did too.

Patrick would say something like, "I can't tell you how pleased we are to find a man who is willing to service our bodyguard." Or Justine might say, "You'd be surprised how many men freak out when they feel a bodyguard's hot hands snaking up and along their skin."

I let them know I enjoyed these crude statements. Openly drawing attention to my indecent behavior made what I was doing seem all the more obscene.

Usually, I'd smile and offer them a more lewd pose. One time I was bending over in front of Donovan, showing him my behind, when he placed one big hand on the small of my back and pressed a finger against my hole. I widened my stance, bent over further, and used my fingers to open my cheeks as wide as I could. God, it felt so perverse doing that with them watching.

And then his thick finger was suddenly far up inside me, and I heard his change of breath as he wiggled it around.

Patrick said, "Whatever you have up there really has Donovan excited." This prompted Justine to say, "Yes, that's very good. Is his finger getting way up inside your anus, Steven?"

I said, "Yes, almost to my stomach, I think."

She smiled and said, "You are such a dear to allow him to do that. I didn't know there were men like you around. We were ready to hire a professional, but where do you find human males willing to be bitches for a horny bodyguard?"

I loved their crude language. Justine and Patrick had many things they like to say to demean and humiliate me, though they were always said in the nicest, most matter-of-fact way possible.

But that became their favorite name for me: Donovan's bitch.

* *

I knew in the canine world how bitches served their dogs, and the raw animal feeling of that word turned me on. Plus the fact that I was not a woman but a man made it more sexy-perverse.

I'd been starting to hope more and more that they would suggest letting the bodyguard fuck me. But they seemed content to wait for things to unfold naturally. Maybe they were waiting for me to degrade myself even more by asking for it.