Story by Wander Wonder on 17 Sep 2012
He was new to my neighborhood, a slick pretty boy who I despised at first sight. He wore three-piece suits all day long and hosted barbecues with his live-in girlfriend. I was convinced he had his wireless earpiece surgically attached to his head. I'm pretty sure he wore it while he was fucking his girlfriend, which was every time he did something nice like bring her flowers, which was a lot. They fucked everywhere and sometimes forgot to close the blinds.
I didn't go outside when he was in the back yard. I had planted knee-high shrubs to separate my property from my old neighbors, but wished now it were a wooden fence. He had a dog, a big hairy thing that he played with religiously, and laughed as if he knew I was watching when the beast would knock him over and slobber all over his pretty face.
The first time I talked to him I had just finished yelling at an editor, and was about to throw my phone against the wall when my doorbell rang. I opened it suspiciously; no one who knows what's good for them visits me. It takes years to built an appropriate notoriety for bad hospitality. I don't even get desperate trick-or-treaters. There he was, hands jammed into the pockets of his trousers, a pleasant grin on his face, Bluetooth in his ear. I was wearing my boxers, nothing else.
"Hey, neighbor," he grinned cheerfully, "thought I'd introduce myself before I ask you to watch my dog for a weekend."
"I hate dogs," I responded.
He raised his eyebrows. "Yikes. Does that mean you would kill one out of spite?"
"Great," he said. "My girlfriend and I are going on vacation until Monday, and I just need someone to walk Angus every afternoon. His food and water get dispensed automatically. The key is under the back mat. I'll go tell Jilly we found someone."
He closed the door himself.
I went to my kitchen to watch him tell Jilly that I was going to walk his dog and not kill it. Through the blind I could clearly see he was imitating me, and she was laughing uproariously. He started tickling her, and then chased her upstairs to where the master bedroom faced my own. Moments later the curtains bunched rhythmically, as if someone were hanging onto them while getting fucked like a dog. Maybe Angus was fucking Jilly. I went upstairs to the den and resumed typing.
I wound up walking his monster, which, I found out, was ridiculously well-behaved and friendly. Jilly came over on the following Monday and thanked me with a basket of homemade muffins. I didn't eat them, but I did throw one over the fence for the dog.
There was one guy I knew in town who fucked me on a regular basis. He knew he was the only ass I got, and lauded it over me that he was gracious enough to stick his dick in me when I came around. I let him think I cared. He scratched an itch, I inflated his ego and gave him a back-up fuck when he was between boyfriends.
He wasn't a fantastic lover, but he satisfied me. I knew I was good because he fucked me whenever I showed up. One time I stopped by when his boyfriend was in the shower. He shoved my face in a pillow and rolled on a condom. At one point, he was plowing into me while yelling at his boyfriend about using the guest towels. I was back out the door in seven minutes. I timed it. Because of that fuck, I walked bowlegged for four days. Jilly saw me hobbling to get my paper one morning and asked me if I was okay. I didn't answer her.
Then one day my fuckbuddy visited me, which meant he was especially horny and rough. We didn't even leave the front hallway, and it was only after that his pants were around his ankles and his cock in my mouth that I urged him to push the door closed. I always brought my own lube to his house because he didn't like to use it. This time he just used my spit, fucked me while I screamed, then left me to masturbate on my own. I came the moment I heard his car pull out the driveway.
I took a shower, put on some loose pants and went outside to get the mail. The check from my publisher was supposed to arrive, and I was thinking about getting a new computer. I swallowed and found that my throat was raw.
My neighbor was getting out of his car. I didn't look at him, but he called out to me anyway.
"Hey, are you alright?"
"What?" My voice sounded hoarse.
He pointed to my feet. "You're limping, buddy, and it looks like someone punched you in the mouth. Bar fight at lunch?" He smiled at his own joke.
I shuffled to my front door. "No, I was sucking a guy who dry-fucked me after I swallowed his cum." He could go fuck his macho, hetero, all-American self.
The door closed behind me.
I don't know what I had expected or perhaps hoped for, but I wasn't surprised to see my pretty boy neighbor walk through my sliding doors a minute later. His hazel eyes were open the whole time he pulled me to him by my shirtfront and shoved his tongue down my throat, as I stared back at him.
He pushed me away, hand still fisted in my shirt. "Go get your lube. I'll be in your den."
I did not run until I was already upstairs, and made damn sure that I didn't seem like I was in any hurry. I threw the lube at the pompous bastard when I walked into the room. "Fuck you, man."
He tossed the lube on the couch cushion beside him. "Quit bitching and get that pretty mouth on my cock." He didn't even undo his belt as he fished out his prick, half-hard and waiting.
I wrapped my hand around the base of his shaft and licked the head, my eyes shutting on their own accord. After licking him again, I finally closed my mouth around the cockhead.
"Fuck," he groaned, his hands coming to the back of my head.
I slipped my hand inside his pants to fondle his hot, heavy balls, and chuckled when I realized he shaved.
"Asshole," he growled, and shoved my head all the way down to the base of his now-engorged cock. It was like swallowing a steel pole, and I nearly choked before he let me up for air.
"Fucker," I coughed, releasing him. "My throat is already sore."
"So's your ass, but I'm going to fuck that, too."
My dick jumped.
He rose from the couch, his cock curving towards the ceiling. He stopped me from swallowing it again, slapping my cheek with it. "Turn around," he ordered. "I want to see you grab your ankles."
"I'm not that flexible," I snapped.
"Take a yoga class, bitch," he responded, and shoved me over the pool table, yanking my pants down. His fingers, cold and wet with lubricant, penetrated my sore ass. He was surprisingly gentle.
"Let me know when you're ready for it."
I huffed. "I can take you, closet fairy."
In response, he slammed his cock into me, burying it until his balls slapped mine. I yelled in agony; his cock was bigger than my fuckbuddy's. He held still against me for a moment, then began to fuck me in earnest, pistoning his rod into my sensitive ass. Occasionally he would slap my ass, hard, and I would jump every time, shuddering.
He turned me over and held me down while he fucked me, my legs flying in the air, head rolling. His look was focused, that easy yuppie grin gone from his face as he watched me writhe on his cock. One hand was pressing down on my abdomen, under my aching shaft, meeting him as his cock hit my prostate. God, he was beautiful, sweat beading on his forehead, his slick suit finally crumpling from his efforts.
He leaned further over me, my legs wrapped around him, the sweat rolled from his face onto mine, our breathing filling the room. He hunched into me, fucking me so hard I saw stars, his cock driving me further onto my pool table. He dug his fingers into the collar of my shirt, ripping it, pulling it apart until my heaving chest was bare for his inspection.
"You bastard," I gasped. I liked that shirt. He bit my nipple until I yelped, and then fastened his lips around it.
My head fell back against the table, my ankles digging into his buttocks as my hands tightened on his shoulders. I felt conquered, laid bare, exposed, and vulnerable. My world revolved around his invading cock.
I came like lightening, my toes curled and my back arched, thrusting my nipple into his hot mouth. He nipped me and I jerked violently, my semen exploding onto his button-down shirt, my mind floating away as my body thrashed, impaled on his cock. Every thrust shook me to the core. My cock was a rocket, an extension of his as he pounded into me. My mouth gaped open, air sailing out of my lungs every time he thrust, fucking the cum out of me.
"Fuck," I cried, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, "oh, fuck me."
He grunted, slamming our bodies together, pressing down on that spot as his cock rammed it. "Take it, fucking queer," he growled, then claimed my mouth as he, too, began to shake, finally coming inside me. I could feel it.
He still fucked me at a machine-gun pace; he penetrated my mouth with his tongue and my ass with his rampaging cock. Every thrust jerked a cry from my throat; I was so sensitive.
With a few last hard thrusts he pulled out of me, wiping his cock on my ass. He straightened his tie and pushed his limp dick back into his pants.
"Until next time, gorgeous," he grinned, kissing me. His semen was trickling down my legs, hot and cold all at once. I couldn't move.
"I'm going to have a hickey on my nipple," I said sharply.
"You loved it, you bitch."
He walked out the back door, calling, "Until next time."
I rolled my eyes. Like hell. The fucker was no newbie, but if I had a fucktoy who looked like his girlfriend I wouldn't bother with the nerd next door. But I joined a Pilates class, and left my back doors unlocked.