Buzzing Around

Hello. My name is bill. Just plain Bill. At the time of this story, I was 34 years old, going to the gym every day, and was in good shape.

Years ago, I and two friends bought a house in the poorer part of the Hamptons in New York, where we could spend our summer weekends. I imagined that we financed it, since our combined incomes were respectful. It was a bit over a half-mile from the beach.

A young couple in their 20s lived next door. They were year-round residents. Evidently she worked, but he was a “stay-home” husband. This could be because he had no special training, was lazy, or was simply incompetent on the job.

His nickname was Buzz. How he got it is unknown. I doubt if he was the subject of many conversations. Perhaps it was because he had a buzz haircut. I didn’t notice, since I am usually more interested in other parts of a man’s anatomy that their hair style.

Buzz exaggerated his masculinity, with his super macho guy attitude. He acted like if a faggot glanced at him in the wrong way, he would swat the faggot like a fly. Needless to say, we all ignored him completely. By the look of his muscles, at some point he must have lifted weights, or had a very strenuous manual labor job.

I bought a very small Fiat, about the size of a refrigerator turned sideways. Its maximum speed must have been 35 miles per hour. I drove it mostly to the beach very early in the morning, before the sun got too hot. I have very light skin, and even with sun lotion, I burn easily.

While my colleagues were at the beach enjoying the hot mid-day sun, I usually sat in back of our house, in the shade of a big tree, to read a book. I noticed that Buzz began to come out of his house more frequently, pretending to putter around and fix this or that.

There was a dirt road beside our house that led back into the woods, where there were three or four houses. Because I adore walking in the woods, one day I decided to take a walk and explore the wooded area. I started walking toward the dirt road, when Buzz crossed over into our yard. There was no fence between our houses.

Buzz gave me a hearty good-morning greeting. I replied in kind, but was surprised. It was the first time he had ever spoken to me. “Going to take a walk?” he asked. “Mind if I join you? I need a change of pace and some exercise.”

I was hesitant, but said that it was OK. I did so with some trepidation. “Was he going to beat me up,” I wondered. We walked in silence. When I came to the woods, I entered, thinking that he would continue walking. But he entered with me. A couple of minutes into the woods, he remarked, almost growled, “! gotta take a piss bad.”

Instead of turning his back to me, he faced me full frontal, took out a nice sized dick and began his thing. I didn’t know what to make of this. After he shook the dew from his lily, he asked harshly, “Want a taste of his meat, faggot,” as he began stroking his cock. I didn’t know whether to run from the woods or accept his offer. I was very suspicious. However, my mind didn’t decide. My natural cocksucking instincts took over, and I moved a couple of feet away from the pissed-on leaves and fell to my knees.

Buzz grabbed my head and began to face-fuck me furiously. “This guy has been around the block more than once,” ! I thought. At the same time he was almost shouting, ‘I’ve got me a faggot, and he’s a really good cocksucker.” His remarks were in part because I had discreetly removed my full dentures before beginning my task.

When Buzz came, he thanked me. His super-macho attitude had seemingly melted away. He then immediately left the woods, but I continued my exploration. I was puzzled and thrilled at what had happened.

This activity became a daily ritual. After a week or so of this adventure, Buzz was very distressed. You might say that he was all abuzz. He asked, “Do you know Chuck who lives behind me,”

“I’ve never seen him,” I replied.

“Well, yesterday,” Buzz continued, “Chuck came to me and said. ‘I saw what you were doing in the woods with a guy,’” Buzz answered, “I was very surprised, even shocked.” I was in the woods, yes, but I didn’t see you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Chuck stated proudly.”That’s because I have high-powered binoculars.”

Buzz retorted, “Well, so what? I’ll bet you’ve done the same thing with a guy.”

“Yes, I have. But I want some of this action. Otherwise, I’ll blackmail you,” Chuck threatened.

Buzz replied, “You know that I don’t have any money.”

“Not money blackmail, stupid,” was Chuck’s acid response, “I’m not a crook. I’ll tell the guys at the gas station, and may even suggest this to your wife,” he threatened.

I felt sorry for Buzz, because I had started to like him, in spite of the short time I had known him. “So how are you going to resolve this?” I queried.

“You’ve got to do me a favor. Give him a blow job so that I can get him off my back,” Buzz suggested.

“Hey, I don’t even know him. I don’t know If can help you,” I interjected. “But if it will get you off the hook, I’m willing to risk it,” I half-heartedly replied.

Buzz exclaimed, ‘Man, you don’t know how much I appreciate this. If it’s OK with you, I’ll set him up for the same time tomorrow as we usually do. Wait for him on the road near the woods, Buzz instructed.

“I don’t know how to return the favor,” Buzz lamented.

I told him, “Just continue to feed me that great cock of yours.”

“No problem,” he answered. “It’s all yours whenever you want it.”

The next day at the appointed hour, around 11 a.m., I walked down the road as far as the little pine tree that stood almost on the road itself. Then I saw not one, but three guys coming towards me. “That can’t be Chuck,” I thought. But when they got to me, one said, “Hello, I’m Chuck. I brought along a couple of friends. I hope you won’t mind.”

I was shocked, fearful of what I might be getting into. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to go through this, but I thought about Buzz’s predicament. I decided that I would help buzz.

And what a disappointing experience it was. All three had small to average cocks, and were mechanical, even cold, in their reaction to my blow job. I found chuck to be downright hostile. I immediately decided that I wouldn’t see any of them again.

When we finished, Chuck asked me, “When can we do this again?”

I told him that I would alert Buzz about the next time. He said “OK,” and they left. I repeated all of this to Buzz and he seemed relieved. I hoped that Chuck would not bother him again.

Some days buzz didn’t appear when I was outside reading. I guess he has screwed his wife the night before, and didn’t need my mouth.

Stupid-ass Chuck must have bragged about the blow job he got from me to the guys at the filling station in front of our house. This was apparent, because every Sunday before returning to New York, we tanked up there. The workers gave each other knowing glances, snickered, and whispered to another, pointing at our car. I resented it, but house partners just took it in stride.

One of the workers at the gas station was mildly retarded. They used him for simple tasks, such as filling radiators, wiping windshields and car windows. He also kept the station clean, inside and out. I and my housemates began to notice that the half-wit began to hang around our house at varying hours during the day. We thought it strange. Then one morning while I was sitting out back reading, he approached and did a startling thing. He exposed himself to me. He had a monster dick, I mean a whopper. I looked quickly, then back to reading. He said nothing.

The next day he came again at the same time and flashed me just like the day before. This time I threw caution to the winds. I motioned for him to come closer.. Not wanting to do anything outside, I indicated to him to follow me into the house, and I took him to my bedroom. I proceeded to swallow that gigantic prick. He made no sounds but shot his load quickly. I realized that I could regret what I had done.

The summer days turned into chilly weekends and I no longer went to the beach. I had grown increasingly bored having to endure a four hour trip to our beach house every Friday night, and an equal four trip returning home on Sundays. The trip should have lasted just under two hours, but we had to compete with thousands of other cars doing the same thing every weekend. To my annoyance, the third housemate insisted in trying to control everything that happened at the house. This even included his telling me how I should decorate my bedroom.

So I decided to sell my share in the house which was one-third. My good friend George bought my share, thus owning two-thirds of the house. I’m sure he was still pestered by the third shareholder. I left my little Fiat parked at the gas station with a for-sale sign on it. But there were no takers. Eventually I just gave it away.

I said farewell to Buzz, and gave him my New York phone number. Of course he never called me. I remember him fondly. I wonder who became his new cocksucker.