The first time I caught my nextdoor neighbor peeing in my bushes, I'd assumed it was a fluke.
I'd just stepped out of the french doors at the back of my house and onto the patio above the pool when I heard a noise from the corner of the house. Stepping around the large magnolia bush to my left, I caught sight of him.
He was standing at the corner of my house, just past where the fence between our lawns ended. Having only moved in a few months ago, I hadn't had time yet to deal with the fact that the fence didn't actually connect to anything. The neighborhood was safe enough, though, so I figured it wasn't a pressing issue.
I had met Craig once before, when I was moving in. He had grinned and waved from his garage as the moving company began unloading my belongings, and I waved back. As I did, I saw a woman--his wife, I assumed--peeking through the drapes at the front of the house and scowling. Craig had walked over and briefly introduced himself before a loud "CRAIG" echoed out of the garage. His face had fallen slightly, and he'd excused himself with an apologetic look. I saw him only briefly in passing after that, though I often heard him out back mowing his lawn. He tended to whistle a lot to himself, which I found amusing.
This was the first time since moving day that I'd really gotten a good look at him. Craig stood there quietly, eyes downcast and his white athletic shorts dropped down to his ankles, stark naked otherwise. He had short ginger-brown hair and sun-tanned skin. His short beard gave him a slightly rugged look, but his round face softened it. He had a soft carpet of fuzz all across his chest and belly, which had just enough to it to be what I would call a "dad bod." His calves and thighs matched the rest: muscular, but soft, with fuzzy hair all over. Below his soft, fuzzy stomach, a trail of hair led down to his full bush, under which a thick, uncut cock was busy spraying piss into my bushes.
I stood quietly for a second as light glistened through his stream and he continued looking at his dick. He idly rubbed at his foreskin with his hand, pulling it up and then back down. The motion didn't seem to be intended to have any effect, but it seemed like his body reacted anyway, and I could see his shaft thicken slightly. My own body sent a familiar, tingling tightness toward my own crotch, and I quickly cleared my throat.
Craig's gaze whipped up, and he quickly bent down, grabbing at his shorts, which he yanked up. His eyes had a note of panic, and I watched a large wet spot form on the white shorts where they bulged around his half-hard dick; it appeared he hadn't quite managed to pinch off the stream. He spun quickly away, mumbling an apology, and loped toward his backyard. I could see dribbles of piss dripping out of his shorts as he ran.
"Hey, Craig! Wait!" I called. "You're fine! I don't..." I trailed off as I watched his round ass disappear around the fence. I shrugged and turned away, with a confusing, raging erection in my own shorts.
--
The second time time I caught him a few weeks later, he was just finishing, and I watched him flip his uncut cock up and over the waistband of his shorts, the last droplets of piss flying off of his foreskin, which didn't quite cover the tip of his thick glans.
"Hey Craig." I said nonchalantly. His only response was to look up, turn, and bolt again. "Dude! It's... ugh," I said, again watching him disappear around the fence. "I don't care!" I hollered after him. No response.
--
The third time I caught him, it was pretty obvious he had made a habit of it.
He didn't have his shorts around his ankles this time, but they were pulled down under his butt. His balls were hanging loose and low under his thick shaft, and he was just relaxing his body before peeing. A spurt of piss shot out of his dick and into my bushes, and he sighed in relief.
I was ready this time. Quickly undoing the lace on my swimming trunks, I stealthily stepped along the bushes until I was close, and then stepped out, my cock in my hand. I immediately let fly, a strong stream of piss spraying into the bushes, near where his own was landing. He saw me immediately, and looked nervous, but didn't immediately bolt this time, only turning ever so slightly away from me.
There we go.
"Feels good, huh?" I quipped. He glanced up at me, and I smiled reassuringly at him. "Pissing outside, I mean," I continued, shifting my shaft a bit to loosen it up. Pee dripped off of the leaves in front of me.
"Um," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Sure, yeah."
"I was serious last time, by the way," I said. "I don't care if you want to piss over here. Though I am surprised you don't use your own bushes." I quirked an eyebrow slightly at him, the corner of my mouth twitching up into an amused, inquiring smile.
He gulped. "My, uh... My wife doesn't..." He trailed off, and shrugged, his face reddening slightly. I glanced at his cock as he pissed, then looked back up at him. I realized he was staring at
my
dick in return. I looked down at his again and realized I could see his shaft firming up and his heartbeat beginning to pulse through his dick. I looked studiously back down at myself as I felt a rush of blood pump into my own dick, and willed it away.
Not now...
He suddenly cut off his stream, and I saw him shove his dick into his shorts. He didn't move, however, and I looked up at him. He stood there, staring at my chubbed cock as I kept pissing. I glanced down to see a tent beginning to form in his shorts, and a wet spot at the apex where his foreskin had dribbled against the fabric.
For once I was glad to see him spin and run off--my cock had slammed to attention in my hand, pulsing its arousal at me.
The fuck is going on with me lately? Why am I getting hard in front of a guy?
I thought with a frown. I cleared my thoughts with a shake of my head--well, technically both heads, as I flicked piss off of my raging erection--and pulled my shorts back up, leaving a tent of my own.
I spent the next fifteen minutes or so cooling off in the pool. It was little more than a small wading pool, really, not even big enough to swim laps in, but it still felt like a massive luxury to me. After years of barely scraping by, I'd finally achieved some semblance of middle class-hood, and lots of little things felt hopelessly fancy compared to how I'd lived before. The water felt amazing in the beating summer sun.
My erection had long since died down, and I could still hear Craig next door mowing. A thought occurred to me, and I hauled myself up out of the pool, water dripping and splashing across the concrete. I danced across the hot surface and onto the much cooler grass.
A second later I leaned around the end of the fence and looked into Craig's backyard. He was currently walking away from me, finishing off what looked like one of two remaining rows of grass. He had very slight love handles above the waist of his shorts, and his butt filled out the fabric completely. I could see the movement of each leg perfectly as the muscles in his ass flexed back and forth. Sweat had trickled down his smooth back, leaving a wet trail down the center of his shorts. The white fabric had gone partially transparent, and I could see the faint hue of skin at the crack of his ass as the globes pushed each other back and forth with his gait. I gulped, and my dick stirred.
Stop that.
My unruly member seemed to heed my chiding, and I avoided popping wood. I stepped out from behind the fence and walked into his yard. It was neat, but mostly barren. A small concrete patio in front of a sliding glass door allowed room for a small metal table and a couple chairs, and some scraggly bushes butted up against the house. Other than that, it was just a large-ish lawn with a wooden shed in one corner.
I stepped through the freshly-mown grass, enjoying the smell, and waved to him as he turned into the last row of grass. He looked nervous, strangely, and glanced at the sliding door. I looked over as well, but didn't see anything. Nor had he, apparently, and he held up a finger in a "just a sec" motion before finishing off the row. I waited patiently and watched as he strode past me, his belly and pecs jiggling slightly with the vibrations of the mower. Sweat had dripped down into the front of his shorts as well, and I could see a dark shadow where his pubes were. The transparency stopped just above the bulge of his dick pressing against the thin cotton fabric.
I blinked to clear my mind and looked away to distract myself--specifically my body, which was threatening to be unruly again. Craig turned the mower off as he finished the last row, and the motor wound down to silence.
"Hey!" I said with a friendly smile.
"Um, hi," he replied, with considerably less assurance in his voice.
I held out my hand. "Brandon," I stated. "We met very briefly when I moved in. Craig, right?"
He looked uneasy, but took my hand and shook it. I was pleased to find that he wasn't the type to squeeze super hard just to show his "manliness;" that had always annoyed me. "Yeah," he replied. "Good to, uh... see you again."
"Yeah," I said, before quickly continuing, "Hey, you look like you could use a break from the heat. You wanna crack a beer and try the pool?"
His eyes flashed with excitement, but dimmed just as quickly as he glanced over my shoulder at his house. "I probably... well..."
I headed him off. "I can always hear your car pulling into the driveway from my backyard. If you're wanting to make sure you know when your wife gets home. No need for her to know about us having some bro time." I grinned encouragingly, and then turned as I said, "You want Dos Equis or La Fin Du Monde?"
I knew I had him, so I didn't even look to see if he was following. He said hesitantly, "Um, the first one?"
I glanced over my shoulder. "Do you not drink?"
