My arms are splayed out on the table, fingers curled over to grip the sides. The skin of my torso and cheek rub abrasively against the tabletop, back and forth. "Oh, fuck," I manage between grunts. "Take it, bitchboy," pants my neighbor, his balls slapping mine. One hand is on the back of my neck pinning me to the table. "I am taking it, asshole," I respond. He punches my ass, hard, with the hand that was holding my neck. "Motherfucker." I'm about to come in his fist. His thrusts increase in speed. I know he's going to blow soon. He's more excited than usual today, for some reason or another. I don't mind at all. "Ah, shit," he groans, tensing up behind me. The movement of his hips becomes erratic as he comes inside me. My vocabulary decreases to small variations on "oh, fuck." His hand speeds up on my cock, and soon I'm gripping the table hard enough to leave dents, spurting into his hand. He collapses onto me, breathing heavily. As always I am temporarily paralyzed by the afterglow of orgasm, and for a moment I'm okay that there's a body on top of me in the same state. Not for long. "Get off me," I grunt. "In a minute." "Now," I say, standing on shaky legs. My neighbor pulls out of me and throws the condom away beneath my sink. That's one for every day of the week, a new record. He's pulling up his slacks when he peers out the window. "Shit," he says, swiftly buckling his belt. "Jilly's home. Give me a cup of milk or something." I can't keep a small smile from my face. "A cup of milk?" He shoots me a glare while he buttons his shirt. "Or some eggs." I open the refrigerator and pull out a carton with three eggs in it. He's gargling water. I wouldn't want to kiss my girlfriend with cum in my mouth, either. He spits it out, takes the eggs from me, and gives me a hard kiss before heading out the door. I fold my arms. "Hey," I say. He turns around. "What have I got that she doesn't?" He opens his mouth, but doesn't answer. I watch him hop over the shrubs I planted and sail into the back door of his house. He greets Jilly with a passionate kiss, the kind that begins foreplay; I can tell by the way she drops her purse and wraps her arms around him. He's looking at me through the window while he kisses her, and raises his middle finger at me. I probably have a smug look on my face, knowing the bastard is going to have a hard time covering his tracks unless he stops showing up every damn afternoon. I go upstairs to do some more typing, my article is due tomorrow and I'm only halfway finished. My ass is sore. My fuckbuddy in town gets upset because I don't stop by anymore, but that's his own damn fault for thinking he's the only guy to waggle a dick at me. Plus, even my ass has its limits. It's Saturday before he shows up again. I'm still asleep because, uncharacteristically, I went out the night before with my old fuckbuddy - I did feel bad for the guy after all. My head is pounding and my ass is sore. Did I get spanked last night? He waltzes into my bedroom like he owns the place and stands over me. "Jilly's running errands," he says as way of greeting. "Fuck Jilly's runs," I mumble into the pillow. I'm really hung over, and I'm trying to remember if I got tied up last night. It would explain the marks on my wrists. He lodges a hand under my shoulder and flips me over, then pulls my head to his crotch. Cocky bastard already has his pants down. "I need a blowjob." "Get a hooker, you fuckhole." "You're better," he says, tapping my lips with his dick. My tongue shoots out, I can't help it. He's already leaking precum. My eyes flutter open. "Open those gorgeous lips," he coaxes, rolling his hips a little. "Go fuck yourself," I say, but I open my mouth as he pushes his pelvis forward. His dick is magnificent, thick, veined, it doesn't taper save for the glans at its crown. It's smooth against my lips, wet under my tongue, hard in my hand. His head is thrown back, his hands fisted in my hair as he guides me up and down his cock. I love the taste of it, the constant drip on my tongue. I pull my head off his cock and pull his hips forward until I'm nuzzling his balls. I take one in my mouth, rolling it around, tasting it, while my hand works his shaft. I wait until I hear him say, "Oh, fuck that's good," to transfer my lips to the other. He pushes my head away and throws the sheets back, climbing onto the bed as he rolls on a condom. "I have a hangover," I whine. "I don't fucking care. Put a pillow behind your head," he says curtly. He pulls my legs onto his shoulders and quickly lubes me up. I curse the day I ever showed him what was in my nightstand. He withdraws his fingers and leans over me, brushing his cock against my opening. "Do it yourself," he orders. My hands fumble for that god among dicks, and position it at my hole. "Hurry the fuck up," I say. He leans into me, letting my legs go as the head of his cock pops past my sphincter. I groan. "Fuck, you feel so good," he exhales, kissing me. I begin to roll my hips up since he's not moving, he's just tangling his tongue with mine. "Quit being so fucking domestic," I snap. He starts moving, long strokes that hit me in all the right places. "You're like a bitch in heat, you know that?" "You're such a charmer," I say sarcastically, but gasping in between ruins the effect. He puts a pillow behind my head, and I hang on to his shoulders. He's driving into me now, desperate, as if he doesn't fuck me hard enough to break my bones then he won't come. I can't speak. I feel like his cock is going to come out my throat. Every time I open my mouth that rampaging dick forces a groan from my lips. I sound like something from a bad porno. I'm struggling to breathe, and with every push my head bangs into the headboard, cushioned slightly by the pillow. His sweat is dripping on my face. "Fuck," he says over me, muscles bunching. "Fuck yeah." I can feel his buttock clenching under my heels. I push back against him, my fingers clamped to his nipples. His body is pressed fully against mine, rubbing my cock without either of our hands on it - I send out a silent thanks to my Pilates instructor. The friction is nearly becoming unbearable. He kisses me again, and it feels different for some reason, so for once I respond. His hips never stop moving; he shifts his angle so that his thrusts are hitting that sweet spot perfectly. "Oh, god," I say, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. And then I was coming, coming so hard, making our bellies slick and slippery with jism. He starts fucking me even harder; his cock is like a fucking battering ram. He comes almost as soon as my fingers had stopped digging into his shoulders, his voice loud in my ear. He's biting into my shoulder, which hurts, but it's good. "You're a fucking warhorse," I tell him when my breathing slows. "That almost took forever. "Fuck," is his only reply. His teeth are still imbedded in my shoulder, and he probably drew blood. Fucking vampire. "I have a hangover," I remind him. I'm in desperate need of some aspirin. And to go back to sleep. He kisses me again, that different kiss, and slips out of me. "I'll see you, then," he says, amused. "Jilly's home now, anyways." If I didn't know better I would think he was trying to get caught. I don't wait till he's off the bed to turn over. "Fuck off," I say to my pillow. He throws the covers over me and leaves. I get a rest on the Sabbath, but Monday rolls around again and it's back to the afternoon fuck. I can be anywhere - in bed, at my computer, in the kitchen, once even in the back yard - and he'll show up, bend me one way or the other, and fuck the fight out of me. My back is against the far wall in my den, legs hooked over my neighbor's elbows as he fucks me at a brutal pace. His forehead is pressed to my neck, my arm is wedged between us, jacking myself furiously. I could do this forever. My eyes open to slits, and I see Jilly, her mouth open, staring out her den window into mine. I forgot to close my own damn drapes. I'm too close to climax to care. Later that day the doorbell rings. I open the door to see my neighbor there, that shit-eating grin on his face. "What?" I say testily. "Jilly kicked me out," he says, nonchalant. She technically can't kick him out, because it's his house. I'm immediately suspicious. "And?" "I'm moving in until she finds another place." "No, you're not." "I already put Angus in the back yard. I'll bring some stuff over later." "Fuck that." "Come on, don't be such a hardass," he says, shuffling his feet. It's kind of cute, but I don't want him around all the time. I'd never get any work done. "I'm fucking a guy who is cheating on his girlfriend for no good reason. I can't trust you." "Your ass is a very good reason." He lifts a brow. "It's not as though you've been exclusive." So he'd noticed. I fold my arms and lean against the doorframe. "It'll work," he cajoles. "It won't," I shake my head. "At least until Jilly moves out." I roll my eyes. "You're a fucking idiot, and you're going to get labeled as a fag," I tell him. He grins and pushes me back into my house, shutting the door behind him.