Rear Window

It was time.

It was more than time. I had been living in a rented flat in the village for four years, out of grad school and Parsons, and was, at the young age of 27, considered a wunderkind in the world of fashion.

I was now a VP in one of the world’s leading fashion houses and surprisingly a maiden aunt, I had not seen since my teens had, through great largesse, left me a tidy sum of money. So all of this combined, induced me to really not want to rent anymore, and led me to start looking to buy. In New York, you have to have the coins to do so, but with aunties money and the house behind me, I set off into the ruthless world of buying a flat.

The realtor I landed was unctuous and short, I dare say the biggest thing he possessed was a Napoleon complex. We spent months doing the rounds, sometimes with my steady fuck buddy, Brett, in tow. He was an up and coming interior designer in the city. Nothing seemed to speak to me, and Brett who had a lovely apartment on the Upper East side was also becoming vexed with me.

One night after our workout at the gym, where we’d met, and a righteous rimming, he moaned, not I might add from how deep my tongue was in his tush, but to my annoyance, in frustration.

“Honestly, Paul, one more night in this over heated cracker box, and I may leave you.”

I slapped his luscious hair covered rump. “Promises, promises. Who’d have your whinnying, crazy self?”

He bit my hairy nipple. “I love you, too darling!”

“We could go to your place?”

“No, darling, you could find a place. Now fuck me, so I can melt from that and not the heat in here.”

Surprisingly two weeks later I fell in love. Not with Brett, although I loved him as a buddy and a fuck buddy, but with a one bedroom, den, 15th. Floor apartment overlooking Gramercy Park.

The realtor, Leroy, even his name was unctuous, showed it to me, one late summer evening. It was gorgeous, in a co-op; a bit beyond my price range, but with huge rooms, an amazing kitchen, a small den, where I could do my work, and even a sliver of an East river view.

We were standing in the spacious bedroom, when I noticed a closed door, presumably leading to the bathroom; I’d seen the walk in closet. The beautiful mahogany of the door, filtered around Leroy’s frame as he stood in front of it, waxing away.

“I’m sure Brett would approve.”

He knew Brett was my friend, who happened to be with a client at that moment, and he also knew I was the one buying, not he. I chose to ignore him and moved to the bathroom door. Leroy did not budge. Now I’m a tall guy: six feet, 180, with lots of muscles, so I was in no mood.

“There’s a caveat,” he said.

I waited.

“There’s a window in the bathroom,” he went on.

I waited again.

“You know these apartments are being turned into co-ops and the building is shaped like a square “U”.

Annoyed my retort was: “Yes, and so...”

“Well, it’s pretty much a full length window in the shower. I mean there’s a glass door on the shower, but the window looks out across about 20 feet directly into the shower in the bathroom opposite. That’s the square “U” part of the building. The one room without a view. Christ, some prev must really have designed this.” His voice rose. “They let it stay when they turned it into co-ops!”

Being a film buff, my mind suddenly went to Hitchcock’s “Rear Window”. I stood there hoping for some nude bear of a Raymond Burr opposite me in the shower.

“Let me see.”

He finally moved away and opened the door.

Like the rest of the apartment; it was flawless, with Italian stone, granite, and inlaid glass tile. The shower reeked of pure sex. I opened the glass door and peered across. He was right. Fuck it looked right into the shower across.

I felt my dick stiffened to its seven inches in my suit pants as all sorts of fantasies played out in my mind. The rear window sealed the deal.

“I’ll take it.”

“Of course I’m sure you’ll have your designer friend install a shade.”

I laughed, knowing that would never happen and it would be the first place Brett would want to suck and fuck each other off, voyeurs that we were.

A little over a month later, I moved in. Brett was a huge help and we did suck and fuck in the shower, needing a hefty supply of Windex to clean all the cum from the window.

“That window is so hot,” he enthused one evening after his 7.5” rod had shot a copious load up my ass. He had then dumped his seed on me from the condom, to rub it in me and wash me off in the shower.

“With my luck, some old lady will move in and put up a shade.”

At least we could use it to its perfect intention.

One night about five weeks later, on a rainy, dreary, late September evening, I walked into the bedroom, looking for some sketches, I had left there, when I was startled by a light that suddenly went on. I turned around and realized it had come from the bathroom.

I walked in and knew at once it had come from the opposite bathroom. I opened the shower door and both the sketches and my jaw fell to the floor.

If Tom of Finland had aged to about 50; there he was. A man with gun metal grey hair and tortoise shell glasses was in the act of hanging a picture on the wall. Thank God now both shower doors were opened. Unlike James Stewart, I didn’t have a pair of binoculars, but truly what I wanted was the camera he used in the picture.

The guy only had on a pair of shorts and appeared to be as hung as his picture on the wall, which he had now stood back to admire, giving me time to admire him.

He was carpeted with salt and pepper hair on his chest, arms, and legs. Even though Brett and I were gym rats; it was clear this stud made one his home away from home. His biceps were stunning and I could have happily washed my pre cum stained drawl string pajama bottoms on his rock hard abs and stomach. His bum cheeks in those nylon shorts were a sculpted work of art.

He had to live there. What workman would be dressed like that.

I was just working up to dumping a huge load on my Italian floor, when a woman about the same age as he, came into the bathroom, stood back, looked at the painting too, hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. I still got off and it was another kind of shower, but I was disappointed.

Of course Brett was his usual self. “Did you see a ring? We have to find out.”

I glared down at him. “How do you propose we do that? Do you want me to open the window when she’s in the shower and say: ‘Yoo hoo, what’s your role in all this?”

He took my dick out of his mouth, which was a shame as he’s a champion cock sucker. “Well, I admit at times you’ve been more subtle, but we have to find an answer.”

Miraculously, the answer came (and did he cum!) in all its, and his glory, two mornings later. I was in the shower, when suddenly the light opposite popped on and there he was, stepping into the shower. Can I tell you Falcon Studios never would have found a better daddy type. His dick looked about five inches flaccid and I was dying to be the one lathering soap on those orange shaped biceps.

He must have dropped his soap because suddenly we were eye to eye. Miss Manners never covered this, but as there was no shade on his window either, I took a dive and grinned blatantly at him.

He raised a sexy eyebrow and waved.

I grabbed my dick, soaped it up, and pressed it to the window.

He mirrored me, his length and girth slightly outshining mine. I grabbed my balls and pull down. He did the same.

I turned, spread my cheeks and exposed my hairy hole to him.

When I turned back around he was doing the same.

He started to jerk off. Boy was he a two hander. I did the same, licking my lips.

Suddenly, he opened the window, so I opened mine. The windows were designed so both windows and screens opened simultaneously, but the screen, if used, could still swing back and cover the window.

It had turned cold, but that did not seem to deter him. “This is the best way to meet a new neighbor.”

Panting my retort was: “Absolutely.”

“Let’s see how far we can shoot. When I bought this place, I asked the realtor the distance between us and he said about 12 feet. I can shoot pretty far. You?”

I was damn close and did not want to disappoint him. Heights scare me and it was cold, but I stuck my tool out the window.

He did the same and called: “One arm too.”

My hunk let go a tremendous volley that did indeed reach my arm. I shot off more rounds then he did, but fuck it was hot.

I brought my arm back in and with my hand ate his load.

He surprised me again. “I’ve got to piss.” With that a stream of hot urine came out of his hose. He was squeezing his yardstick and some came across to splash on my chest.

He laughed. “What’s your name, friend?”

“Paul.”

“Fred. You know we need to do more than this.”

“Sounds great, but what about the woman?”

He frowned. “Woman? There is no woman.”

I blushed. “I have to admit propinquity caused me to see a woman in the bathroom with you awhile back when you were hanging your picture.”

He roared. “That’s my sister, Colleen. She lives in Connecticut. She was just helping me.”

This was a ridiculous conversation to be having on a cold October morning, naked, 15 floors up, but I had another question. I turned off the water and he did the same. “So, no ring?”

He leered at me. “Only around my cock. Have plans for Friday night?”

I should be working on plans for the Spring show as it never ended but I wasn’t going to let this golden opportunity and maybe another golden shower, pass me by. I shook my head no. “15-F, building one. Use the tunnel between the buildings. 6p. Drinks, nibbles, and much more.”

He winked. “Yeah, I know what I’ll be drinking in and nibbling on. I like kink, if you do, so let’s think up something and I know it will be hot.” He gave me a salute. “Nice meeting you, Paul.” He blew me a kiss. “See you Friday.” He closed the window and I was left in awe.

Brett and I did not talk every day, and he was working on a big job. I did text him and ask him to call me. That evening as I was preparing dinner, I heard a shuffling type sound and walked to my entryway to see that an envelope had been pushed under my door. It was addressed: “Hottie boy”.

I opened the envelope, my heart pounding. The note read: “I thought I recognized you as an up and comer in fashion, and then remembered I’d read about you a few weeks ago in ‘Sunday Styles’. In lieu of what you do; I’d like it if you had on a suit Friday evening, so I can undress you. One of my kinks, and a jock, too, if you own one. If we don’t catch each other in the shower again, hold a big load till Friday! Fred”

My phone went off as my prick was drooling from this. Of course it was Brett. He deluged me with questions and when I told him it was Friday, he wanted me to film it. “If he’s into kink, why not?”

“That’s right, the whole fashion film crew will be here and film it!”

Reluctantly he admitted he had to get back to his demanding client but insisted on all details till Friday. Alas, there weren’t any, even as much time as I was spending in the loo; I didn’t see Fred again till Friday and hard as it, and I was, had saved up a big load.

The bell rang promptly at six and I had some lovely red wine and appetizers ready. I was in one of our designer suits, with a cum stained jock underneath. He looked flawless, in a suit, with a vest, and his tortoise shell glasses.

He moaned a greeting, pulled me in close and had his tongue further down my throat, then when I’d had an endoscopy. 

Running our hands over each other, he grabbed my stiffer and nodded his head. From his suit pocket, he drew out a cloth tape measure. He laughed, releasing my mouth. “Another proclivity of mine is measuring guys I’m with.”

We barely made it into the living room, had a quick glass of French red and had some canapés.

Fred did ask me if I was with anyone and I told him about my warped sex pal, Brett and he imparted he had broken up with a guy six months ago and like me just wanted a safe sex buddy. He said maybe sometime, after he and I had been at it for awhile, we could do a three way. I knew nothing would thrill Brett more, but right now, I just wanted him, like you want to win the mega millions.

Reading my mind he pulled me in close, noses touching and mammoth packages against each other through our suits.

He was like the best Christmas gift to unwrap. Jacket first, vest, shirt, and wow! All that hair, his sweat, those arms, his pits, and nips. I was like an ant at a picnic. He wanted us to undress the other first and at this point my dick was about to break, but he was setting the pace and with his build it was fine as some hot daddy fantasies do come true. I smelled, licked, chewed, and ran my hands all over him. His back was smooth, but his chest and stomach were a forest. Kneeling, I laved into his flat belly button and reached for his alligator belt. Undoing  it, I dropped his gorgeous suit pants; a snicker escaped my throat, at his packed green jock, that was wet from pre-cum. 

My nose went first, sniffing deeply the individual smell that each man owns. His jock, like mine, had not been laundered, so the scent was rich and intoxicating. He was pushing my head into his whopper and I drank greedily.

Reaching behind to his hairy cheeks and running my hands over the straps of the jock, I moved my fingers into his furry fold, massaging his taint and hole, eliciting a guttural purr from him. “Enough,” I thought and in one swift motion, yanked the jock down. His huge pole clipped me on the chin and pre went on my nose and mouth. Talk about an appetizer! I was about to swallow him, when he reached down and pulled me up, licking his own leakage off my face and ravaging my mouth again.

“Your turn, sport!”

He surprised me by going for the pants first, which in hindsight was good, because there was already a large pool on and around the fly from my excitement. He clearly loved my stained and wet jock, and his next action was to take his hand and palm and rub me through the jock, causing me to gasp and drop my head on his shoulder.

Collecting some hefty pre, he pushed me back slightly and rubbed it all around his mouth and chin, drawing me in. “Wish I could shave with this every day. Lick it off and tongue fuck me with it.”

Obeying him was no problem as he was rubbing his sticky palm all over my stubble. He started opening my shirt, thus doing the same to my hirsute chest, brutally flicking, twisting, and yanking the nubs of my nipples.

We were groaning loudly, in our still stage of not complete undress, when we both jumped, as the doorbell rang.

“What the fuck!”

He raised an eyebrow. 

I sighed. “I wonder if it’s old, Mrs. Margus, down the hall? She sometimes needs something.”

The bell peeled again. 

“You better see who it is,” he said resignedly.

Talk about a downer. It was like jerking off in your car, to suddenly be pulled over by the police.

I sighed, pulled up my pants, left my shirt unbuttoned and stormed to the door as the third ring occurred.

“Yes,” I yelled, not to politely, to hear to my astonishment  Brett say he was here to see me.

The nosey fucker knew what time my rendezvous was, but how had he gotten past the doorman? I yanked open the door and dragged him, which is no small feat as Brett is a 6’1”, 195, honey colored mass of muscle.

“What the fuck are you doing here and how did you get in the building?” I hissed.

“Well, Manny was helping some couple with kids and their luggage, so I slipped past and the guy at the desk didn’t seem to notice.” His blue eyes glinted. “I want to play, too.”

Poor Fred had by now come into the entryway, his still hard rod, at full length.

It was a ludicrous way to do introductions, but I tried.

“This is Brett, who can ferret more details than the CIA, and as an interior designer, should be off right now measuring something.”

Fred ran a devilish appraisal over Brett, who not in a suit, was in slacks and a sport coat and had his rut sack over his shoulder.

Fred didn’t speak at first, but leaned down and pulled the measuring tape out of his pocket. “Like I said, measuring guys is one of my kinks and I’m loving both of your measurements.” He addressed Brett. “Are you into anything kinky?”

I held my breath, knowing fully well that was all the opening, and his kink led to opening, that Brett needed.

“Paul and I have recently gotten into fisting. He’s been fisting me. Ever done that?”

Fred’s face was as priceless as a just discovered Renoir. “Well, it seems like we should all get to know each other.”

Brett snickered and pulled an un opened pack of long black rubber gloves from his bag and a tin of his fisting lube. He winked at me. “I came prepared.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s as prepared as a whore on a Saturday night.”

Fred laughed. “Let’s get naked and see how we measure up.”

As there were three of us now and Fred and I were mostly undressed, we focused on Brett. Interfering shit that he was, he still was firecracker hot. He had honey blonde hair, blue eyes, gorgeous chest and abdomen hair, a nice bush, and hairy hole. I was pretty sure he would measure up as the longest as I reckoned he was around 7.5”.

Undressing him, we all were sharing spit and kisses and now with six hands they were everywhere.

Fred was panting. What a drooler he was. Brett shot like a hose but didn’t leak that much and I was pretty much keeping up with Fred.

We all were as hard as the Italian tile in the bathroom and Fred, took my dick and the tape in hand. I clocked at just about 7”, and a circumference of 3.5. Brett, naturally wanted to measure Fred, who pretty much matched me but was thick as fuck, at a little over 5” around. I measured my fuck boy, who was closer to 8”, and about the same around as me.

After that the real games began. Fred was our leader and suggested we all rim each other. Brett announced that he should have me rim Fred, since I was a gold medal winner with my long tongue. 

We got on the rug face down. Fred rimmed Brett to get ready for his fisting and I happily dove between Fred’s glorious cheeks, which were so tight, I thought I would need a can opener. Our groans ricocheted off the walls and as for me, I was in heaven. Fred’s hole was perfect, clean, and ripe for my drilling. When I flattened my tongue and went in deep, he backed further on my face. I stopped for a minute to paddle his ass, then suggested he kneel and climb on Brett so I could chow down on both their grade A rumps at the same time.

“Great idea, but I’m supposed to be the kink master, remember,” Fred advised me.

With one on top of the other, I could use my tongue to skew them both. Talk about a fucking hot time. Running my tongue over taint, hole and into both was the new ultimate high. It couldn’t have been that comfortable for Brett but he was yelling out: “More, more,” as Fred was jerking his super charged tool along Brett’s back.

I heard Fred groan and started going in as deep as I could up his tight tunnel, as I suspected he was shooting on Brett’s back. He toppled off and looked me in the eye, a wicked gleam in his glint.

“We need to lick my shot off his back.”

We did that our tongues dueling in his delicious and salty sperm. 

“Got a powerful vacuum, kid?” He asked when we were done.

“Sure do.”

“Get it out.”

While I went to get it, I heard Brett imploring Fred to finish him off. I returned with the vacuum to see Fred using his own vacuum mouth to swallow Brett. I moved behind Brett and gave him my super power rimming. A minute or so later his ass clenched and I could tell he was firing his oceanic load down Fred’s throat.

I felt man out not having cum, but heard Fred’s plan.

“Okay, get me those gloves and the silicone lube. Brett, I know to start with a few fingers, cork screw, then build up to my fist in your tight little tush. Paul, you fuck me, with the vacuum turned on and the hose on your balls. Let’s go.”

We all assumed our positions and Brett instructed Fred, who with the long, black rubber gloves on and oozing with silicone lube, was indeed beginning to cork screw one, two, three, then all fingers, but his thumb into Brett’s beautiful hole. As for me, I used some of the lube, jacking the magnum sized codon on my stiff as rebar pole and followed Fred’s lead, by inserting three of my fingers into his anus. Cracking a safe was easier, but I managed to pound his prostate a few times.

We all were making a chorus of moans and I drank in the comments added.

From Fred: “Oh, fuck, now I’ve added my thumb and am twisting my hand back and forth. Shit, this hot.” Fred to me: “Quit playing! Pound it in there, and turn on  the vacuum and get that hose on your balls.”

Brett was telling Fred his fist was amazing and I heard a popping sound and Fred yelled as his hand was in.

“Now punch me, bitch,” Brett yelled, as I could hear the squish of his fist ramming in and out of Brett’s hole and the lube dripping on my hardwood floor.

There was hard wood everywhere as I had entered a cavity so tight, I thought Fred and I would be welded together permanently, which I would have loved. I pulled back, turned on my Miele vacuum and stuck the hose on my nuts. What a feeling! Between the friction of the fuck, the tightness of this 50 year old ass, and the hose on my sack, I wondered if I would be sucked inside of him.

I could hear Fred punching his fist in and out of Brett’s keyhole over the vacuum.

“This is the hottest ever. My fist is burning and I am drilling his prostate like a jackhammer.”

The way Fred’s body was moving, I could tell he was using his other hand to jack off. 

Brett was screaming and I could see that he was spanking his monkey as well. 

We were all moving in sync, racing to see who’d win and cum first.

I couldn’t hold it any longer. My balls were sucked by the hose and I was shaking like a cruise ship in a squall. I emptied one of my biggest loads into the condom.

Limply I turned off the vacuum.

Brett squealed and I witnessed him shoot over to my sofa. I would have bitched, but it was so fucking hot. 

Fred kept punching and ordered me to get underneath him and suck him off.

He did pull out his fist and Brett leaned down to twist his nips mercilessly.

Never one to refuse, I sucked him as tight as the hose on the vacuum and after a few minutes, he yanked his prick out and shot up his hairy six pack and Fred ordered me to dump the condom on him and for us to lick all the cum off of him.

Lapping it all up, we heard Fred laughing. “You boys give him 20 minutes or so, we’ll have some drinks, appetizers, and then we’ll do round two.”

Brett and I beamed at each other and knew we had found love.

We became the Three Fuckseteers and had many boiling times.