After my wife died the house was so empty.
Most of the time it was okay. I went to work and didn't think about it. I ate dinner out, came home and watched TV until late. But there was no one to share my bed at night, and the weekends were long and lonely.
In a way it was good, because I started being more friendly to people, just to have someone to talk to. My next door neighbor George, for instance. Before Veda got sick she'd always loved to garden and take care of the yard. George liked to work outside too, so they were always chatting over the fence that divided our property. I didn't cotton to that much. George always had his shirt off. I didn't like Veda talking to half-naked men, and said so. Veda just laughed at me and did as she pleased.
When the cancer took her George was real nice. He came to the funeral and shook my hand afterward. He leaned forward and said in a soft voice, "If you need someone to talk to, I'm always there, buddy." I nodded and thanked him, though I wasn't planning on taking him up on his offer.
It was months later, though, and the pain was still there, a big hard lump of missing her just sitting inside me. One Friday when I came home from work I saw George, digging at something or another in his yard as he did almost every sunny day, dressed the way he always was--denim shorts, work boots and that was it. He looked up and waved at me. I waved back.
"How's it going?" he called out.
I was about to say fine and go on in the house. Something made me walk toward him, though, carrying my briefcase. I stopped by the fence that stood between our yards, just the way Veda used to do.
"Guess I'm getting by," I said.
George came toward me, his chest hair matted and sweaty. I'd been jealous when I'd heard him and Veda laughing and carrying on outside. I'd been snippy sometimes when he'd tried to be friendly to me. I felt bad about that now.
He was looking at me with a sympathetic expression on his face.
"It's rough, isn't it?"
I nodded.
"Yeah."
George said, "Why don't you come over for dinner tonight?"
I was surprised, and even more surprised to hear myself say, "That'd be nice."
He smiled. "Around seven be okay?"
A few hours later I was knocking on my neighbor's front door, holding a bottle of wine. It was ajar. I stuck my head in and yelled, "Hello?"
"Come on in, Oren," George's voice answered. "I'm in the kitchen."
I went in the direction of his voice. George was at the stove, checking on something. He was wearing flip-flops, and nothing else. I stopped, wine bottle in hand. My mouth was hanging open and I closed it.
George turned around and smiled. "Hey, neighbor. Welcome." All of a sudden his eyes widened. "Oh my god," he said and clapped his fist over his mouth. A snort of laughter got past him. We stood there for what seemed like hours. Finally he said, "I forgot to tell you, didn't I? That I'm a nudist?"
"Uh, yeah, guess you forgot," I managed. That explained his work outfit. At least he hadn't taken it all off outdoors.
"Jeez, Oren, I'm sorry. Do you want me to put something on?"
I was trying as hard as I could to keep my eyes from wandering downward. Still, I glimpsed something pretty impressive between those long legs. Finally I shook my head. "Maybe I should just go."
"No, please," George said. "I'm sorry. I'll just go get some clothes."
"That's not right," I protested. "It's your house. I can't make you do that."
"That's very understanding of you, Oren." George smiled. "I'd really like it if you'd stay."
After a moment I nodded, and handed him the bottle of wine.
"Help me carry these things into the dining room," George said. As he led the way in with the plates I got a good look at his back side. For a guy his age, which was my age, he looked pretty good. His shoulders tapered down to his waist in a nice V-shape, and there were no love handles on the way down. He had a tight little ass, only a little paler than the rest of him. Some weird feeling was tingling inside me. For the first time since Veda died I felt alive.
Once we were sitting at the table it wasn't so bad, since I could only see George's top half. He opened the bottle I'd brought and poured us two glasses. He was a good cook and between the delicious food and the wine I finally relaxed. He talked about his boat and going fishing on the lake (which he did naked too), and promised to take me the next time. He told me funny stories about freaking out UPS guys and other door-to-door types until I was hysterical with laughter.
There was a lull in our chatter. I shook the front of my shirt. "Boy, I'm hot. Must be the wine."
"I don't use the air-conditioning much," George said, and winked. "One advantage of being a nudist."
I don't know what got into me then. I must have been a little tipsy. "I'm not being very sociable keeping my clothes on, am I?"
George raised his eyebrows and smiled. "It's up to you, Oren."
"What the hell." I stood up and began to unbutton my shirt. I wasn't wearing much and it didn't take long to peel all the way down. When I was starkers and my clothes were piled on the chair I looked at George again.
"How's it feel?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Nice," I said. It was the truth.
"Why don't we go in the living room? I'll bring the wine."
We sat on George's couch and drank and talked some more. The evening light gradually began to fade and he clicked on one lamp. When he sat down again he threw one long arm up on the back of the couch. His fingers touched my shoulder. I felt that tingle again.
I turned and looked into his smiling eyes. "I'm glad you came, Oren," he said. "It's been a wonderful evening."
His other hand moved in his lap. I took a quick peek. He had a hold of his dick, which had grown in size. I turned away.
"It's okay to look, Oren," George said softly. "I'm looking at yours."
My eyes moved downward. My own cock was pointing straight up at my navel. That was where the tingling was coming from.
George leaned down toward my lap, looking up at me. "Is this all right?" he asked. I nodded not knowing what he was going to do. The next moment I gasped as I felt hot, slippery pleasure surround my cock. It'd been years since I'd had a blow job. It only took a few minutes for the juices that had been pent up inside to come boiling up.
"Oh god, I'm going to cum," I moaned.