Sharon next door in number 8 is such a nosy bitch.
When my husband Jay and I moved in a year ago she was right round with a jar of her home-made marmalade and a run down on every other resident in our street. She was over the moon that more gays had moved in. She joked that the residents were considering putting rainbow bunting up because so many of ‘us lot’ lived here now. She had toxic fag hag written all over her. Jay warned me, he said “Steve, if you let that woman in for a coffee we’ll never get rid of her – AND she’ll be telling the neighbours all about us just as much as she tells us about them!” He was right of course, he always is.
Jay’s the sensible one. Goes into the office every day, works his nine to five, while I can’t seem to get my shit together since I got made redundant from John Lewis. I’d worked there twenty years (since I was nineteen, I’m not ancient). So I got a tidy packet. Since then I’ve half-heartedly applied for stuff, even done a couple of interviews. But I can’t lie, slobbing out at home and masturbating the day away suits me. I may be a little bit addicted to dirty Twitter. I’m not going to call it X and you can’t make me. But scrolling and stroking for hours on end has cost me many a day at home. Then Jay comes in from work and is wondering why I haven’t done a tap around the house and the living room smells of balls.
I digress. Sharon the nosy neighbour texts all the time with gossip. I tell Jay I don’t encourage it but all this time at home has turned me into a right nosy neighbour too. The comings and goings fascinate me. The old lady in number 10 has got a right fit grandson who always pulls up in his car outside my window and spends a good ten minutes chatting on his mobile before he goes in. I’m convinced he’s having an affair behind his girlfriend’s back – maybe with a bloke – and they’re always turning each other on with some dirty talk whilst he’s got time to himself. There’s a really hot hairy postie who comes most days and I’m pretty sure I’ve caught him looking in the window at me when I’m in my boxers lounging about the place. Then there’s the gays across the road who are about the same age as us but never really make any effort so I don’t bother with them either. Oh there’s a cute mixed race boy with loads of tattoos who passes the window every day but I’m not sure where he lives. I wouldn’t mind finding out to be honest. Less sexy is the family of fat alcoholics over in number 3 who cause absolute mayhem most weekends fighting in the street!
So there’s always a lot going on, but then one day a gang of naughty lads from the halfway house round the corner thought it’d be hilarious to take a run down our street knocking off the wing mirrors of every car they passed. Luckily Jay was out at work in our car but it was carnage for everyone else. I was edging to a bate space on Twitter at the time – ‘Big Bro teaches you to goon’ was reaching its noisy peak just as I heard the bangs, the smashes, the screams and the laughter outside. So sadly I missed the action but I did manage to absolutely soak the settee with the pent up spermies.
That night Sharon came knocking, gleeful with gossip. She was full of concern for her neighbours, obviously, so had taken the liberty of setting up a Tugmore Terrace WhatsApp Group. Jay was making our dinner and called in from the kitchen “We don’t do WhatsApp groups!” Sharon obviously took it in good humour but he meant every word. Over meatballs that night we joked about how she’d be in her element running that group and how it would be a hotbed of beige heteronormative drama and we certainly had no place there. But my craving for gossip – and, let’s face it, boredom – prevailed. And by midnight I’d told her to add me to the group!
As you can imagine I found myself privy to all of the worst elements of a middle-class muesli-eating neighbourhood. Tips on growing tomato plants from the show-off at number 70. Complaints about a rogue cat harassing little Tabitha at number 2. Passive aggression surrounding the placing of a wheelie bin at the Airbnb at number 112. Oh and some borderline racism regarding the Turkish car wash that had opened at the top of the road. I was on the verge of dramatically leaving the group when I noticed just how hot the vet who lives in the shared house at number 80 is! He’d posted a picture of himself holding some pathetic-looking puppy and obviously there were collective wide-ons amongst the housewives in the group.
I, however, looked past the puppy to the bulge in his shorts. Adam. Adam the Vet. Ginger, pale, blue-eyed, wide-mouthed, blowjob lips, no stranger to the gym. I couldn’t care less about the dog he was flogging but would gladly flog his dog for days. It looked huge! My mouth watered at the thought. So I decided I’d hang around a bit longer. Jay judged me harshly until he saw the photograph of Adam and agreed it was worth reaching out and making friends with that particular neighbour… So that’s exactly what I did, only it wasn’t in the way I’d expected…
Jay and I had been trying this new little tip we’d picked up on his anti-anxiety app. Leave your phone out of the bedroom at all times! The irony of it being an app on his phone telling us to spend less time on our phones was not lost on us but we decided to give it a go and the phones were left in the bathroom. A clever trick because we could kid ourselves we were detoxing but then when we got up for our early hours piss we could have a quick fix of screen time. About three in the morning I padded to the bathroom stark bollock naked, my seven inches still chubby from the usual sleepy-time hard on, my bladder full and needing release. As I aimed my hot yellow stream towards the bowl, I noticed my phone flashing on the cabinet beside the toilet. Curious as to who was getting in touch so late I grabbed it and saw it was the Tugmore Terrace WhatsApp Group! At three in the morning?!
Intrigued, I immediately opened it to see it was a message from Adam! It was a disappearing video, complete with a devil emoji. Seriously, what was he playing at in this WhatsApp group?! Obviously I opened it, and the minute I did, I made a mess. My cock swelled up in an instant and the stream of piss decorated the back of the toilet! On the video was Adam, lying on his bed, legs spread, knees to his chest. His cock was rock hard and slapped against his pale white abs, drooling pre, his absolutely huge nut sack was glistening in the phone’s light, and he’d spread the most beautiful smooth pink hole with a slight tuft of ginger hair framing it, a finger sliding in and out of his ring as he groaned.
“You’re right it feels amazing!” he groaned.
The video then ended. One time only. No repeat viewings. It then swiftly disappeared, replaced with, “This message was deleted.” I very quickly tilted my pissing cock back to the water, horned up to fuck but annoyed that I now had to clean up my piss. With one eye on my phone I wiped up the mess, but my dick was still hard. How could it not be? I’d just seen Adam the fit vet fingering his perfect pink hole! His dick was so fat and plump and clearly an oozer, I couldn’t help thinking about licking everything I’d seen on display. Moving my hand to my throbbing pole, I went to his WhatsApp profile, enlarging his profile picture. Adam at someone’s wedding, in a bow tie, beaming to camera like butter wouldn’t melt.
Then suddenly my phone flashed up with a message. It was him.
“OK I know you’re the one person who just opened that message. I’m so mortified!”
My cock jumped with excitement that he’d reached out. But I also felt bad for the guy. So I decided to disarm the situation with my trademark wit, replying, “Don’t be! Nobody saw it, although I’d think twice before doing it again, Vanessa in Number 39 will have a heart attack!” Lots of laughing emojis followed.
Silence – clearly he was never going to speak to me again! Oh well. I’d done nothing wrong. Although I wanted to do lots of wrong and naughty things to his cock balls and hole. I decided to take the phone back to bed with me – this was an emergency situation! As I lay in the dark stroking next to a snoring Jay, scrolling through my usual Twitter go-to accounts, my heart pounded when I saw he’d responded.
“It was meant for some guy off Grindr.”
A little blob of precum oozed from my piss slit and rolled its way down my veiny shaft. He was telling me he was into men. This was getting even more interesting. I responded with a devilish glint in my eye. “Lucky him.”
I was letting him know I was well and truly up for it. If that video was live footage and not pre-recorded there was every chance Adam was still playing with his cock and hole. If he was horny enough then maybe he’d respond in the way I’d hope…
No such luck. My face clouded over and my cock started to go limp when all I got back was the fucking ‘thumb’ emoji.
“Cunt!” I said out loud.
Jay murmured in his sleep and I shushed him. I looked down at my cock, deflated like my mood, and decided I’d save the load and wake Jay up with it in the morning. Jay loves nothing more than me waving my sticky morning knob in his face to wake him. He said he likes the smell of morning cock. Dirty boy. It’s why I married him. Well, that and his incredible lasagne. I was about to put the phone away when another message came from Adam.
“Bastard ghosted me anyway. Left me high and dry.”
My cock started to stir again. A flutter in my stomach as I replied, “Didn’t look very dry to me.” Then I toyed with the idea of adding a tongue emoji and a drool emoji. That would be so obviously thirsty and slutty though. So I sent it without the emojis. He didn’t respond. So I caved and sent the emojis in a separate message. And a devil emoji for good measure. I gently stroked my knob, scooping up some pre on my finger and tasting it as he came back to me with “Glad you noticed.”
I couldn’t help myself. I replied to him… “Course I did. Was hot A F.”
He was responding quicker now. “Nice one. Blue balls now though.”
I couldn’t leave him hanging after he’d been so quick with me. I fired right back, “I know a good cure for that!”
“Oh really. What’s that?”
“Could show you R N”
I must have held my breath for close to twenty seconds until I saw those little dots bouncing. They bounced. And bounced. And bounced. I squeezed the tip of my prick and watch a steady trickle of precum flow out and down the veins into my neat bush of pubes.
Then the message came. “Don’t know. Really need to be discreet.”
“Okay, I’ll cancel the marching band.”
Bounce bounce bounce. I waited. And all I got was a fucking ‘laughing’ emoji. He was a tease. He really wanted me to beg him. I wasn’t going to. But I did send a ‘shrug’ emoji. Nothing for what felt like forever, and then the dots started to bounce again… And bingo. The message came:
“Door open. First room on right.”
I turned to Jay, snoring away. Would it be bad to sneak out to a neighbours’ house and have sex with him without waking Jay first? I thought about it. I looked down at my rigid red prick as it poured pre all over our fitted sheet and decided Jay would be more upset at being woken up at three thirty in the morning than me not running this by him first. I jumped out of bed, threw some jogging shorts and a t-shirt on and pounded down the stairs. In the rush I totally forgot to actually shower, but I did the finger check, the sniff check and the taste check and everything was just the right side of spontaneous ripe.
Stepping out into the night it was mild for the time of year but I was still chilly. The adrenaline pumped through my veins as I headed way down the quiet road to number 80. I wanted to laugh, passing all the windows of our neighbours who were in the same WhatsApp group, who would be absolutely scandalised if they knew their little nosy neighbourhood watch scheme had facilitated such sordid shenanigans.
Arriving at number 80 I saw the whole house was in darkness apart from a tiny bit of light coming through a crack in the curtains of the front room. That would be his little shagging palace. I turned the door handle and stepped into the shared house, trying to keep the noise down but sure my heart was pounding so loud it would wake them all up.
I gently closed the door behind me and stepped into the hall, greeted by the smell of scented candles – vanilla – and the sound of movement behind the door to my right. Taking a quick look at myself in a mirror that was propped on a cabinet, I decided I looked pretty damn good for almost four in the morning. My blond hair was tousled, my slender frame hugged just right by my black t-shirt and grey shorts – my bulge was on point and yes there was even a wet patch. My three day stubble made me look a little more grizzled than I am but it worked in my favour. Ready, I turned and opened the door.
Stepping inside I found the place dimly lit, with a TV showing muted porn, generic MEN stuff, a cute desk and chair and a huge bed taking up most of the room. Adam was sprawled on the bed, totally naked apart from a pair of black socks that stood out against his alabaster skin. He was slowly stroking his rigid boner which had to be about the same length as mine but thicker. He wore a naughty grin on his innocent face, taking a finger full of precum and rubbing it on to his bright red nipples. I hiked my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and yanked them down, letting my dripping dong spring free. As it did it fired a string of pre out on to his floor and he suddenly jumped up to scoop the drips into his mouth.
“Waste not want not!” I joked and he put a finger to his lips to shush me. I nodded and tried not to moan as he engulfed my cock with those expert blow job lips. His slurping hungry mouth sucked me in balls deep as those blue eyes peered up at me for affirmation.
I stroked his head, giving him a quiet nod of encouragement as he sucked slow but hard, savouring the flavours of my cock and the scent of my ripe balls. My fingers were lost in his ginger locks as he gulped down my dick. He tongued my tool then slobbered all over my sack, slurping on my fucknuts so loud I wondered if he was really so worried about making a noise. He picked up the pace sucking harder and I knew after playing with myself in bed for half an hour I wouldn’t last much longer if I let him go full Henry Hoover.
So I stopped him, pulling back before kicking my shorts off and pushing him back on the bed. Grabbing his ankles, I back rolled him until his hole was pointing up at the ceiling. That ginger arse was spread before me, the glistening pink sphincter beckoning me in. He’d been edging a while. I could tell by the heady smell of nuts and nut, pooled deliciously in his crevice. Spreading his marble white cheeks I went in face-first, rubbing my nose over his cunt to savour the scent. His musk made my mouth water and I drooled up and down his crack, tracing the spit with my tongue from the top of his ass to the hole. In I went in, driving my tongue deep and making him sigh loud. The flavour of his tight chute was sweet and salty, and his wiry tight body was the perfect size and weight for me to grip his hips and rock him back and forth on my tongue. He gently played with his cock as I ate him out, teasing his balls as I swiped my wet hungry tongue closer and closer to them. I was enjoying his sweaty taint too much to rush, reaching down and playing with my own dick as I rubbed that gooch up and down my stubble much to his delight.
As he groaned I finally let his feet fall back on to the bed so I could get my mouth on that gorgeous plump prick. I slowly slid his length down my throat, giving him my speciality as I swallowed the cock whole and still had room to swipe my tongue all over his balls. He tapped my thigh – the international symbol for ‘swing around let’s 69’.
And 69 we did. As I went down on that cock again and again I felt him tease my prick back into his hungry mouth. We slurped on each other slow and soft for a while, neither of us wanting to rush this. I swirled my tongue around his shaft as I picked up the pace, up and down hard and fast feeling the surge of precum flowing through his cock into my mouth. He traced a finger up my balls into my sweaty crack and started to play with my hole as he throated me. He worked that finger into my moist tacky shit pipe and I almost unloaded my balls right there as he went knuckle deep. I pulled my cock from his mouth and rocked on his finger, feeling him swirl it inside my ass.
“Fuck yeah,” I whispered.
“You like that?”
“Yeah, two fingers.”
He sucked another finger and started to slide both digits inside me. I gripped his prick and started to nurse the bell end with my tongue as I rocked on those fingers, feeling him start pick up the pace and finger-blast me with gusto. His dick deep in my gullet, I slid my own fingers under his beautiful balls until they found his wet hole. Sliding two in straight away I heard his grunts of pleasure. He was tight but ready to receive – a seasoned bottom.
“Can I fuck you?” I asked him.
“Yeah. Won’t last long though man.”
“Me neither.”
I climbed off him and he flipped over, that perfect white ass pert and proud and waiting to for a pounding. I dove in to eat it again as he scooped a bottle of lube up from under the bed and rolled it along the bed to me. I greased up my pole as I sucked on his hole, teasing out a pucker for my rod to impale. It didn’t take long for him to back on to me, groaning low and guttural as he engulfed my seven inches slowly but surely. It was all I could do not to blow my load the minute I felt his tight ginger cunt slide down my shaft. But I held on to it somehow until that sweet heat was all the way down to my balls.
Adam was a natural, bouncing back before I even started to thrust. He’d needed this. His ginger hole was hungry for a pounding and a fucking hot load. I slapped that ass and started to pound, his buckles meeting my thrusts half way until we hit a rhythm. Fast then slow, intimate and raw. The room filled with the funk of his ass on my ripe cock, the stink of men doing what men do best matched only by the sound of sweaty skin slapping.
I pushed his sweet face down into the bed as I went hard, giving him the fuck he needed. I pounded deep inside him until I felt the load inside me make a break for the escape hatch.
“Mate I won’t last!” I cried.
“Me neither. Knock me up man, flood me!”
His dirty talk pushed me over the edge and before I knew it my aching balls were spewing their white sticky produce deep inside his ginger ass. He cried out as I filled him and he shot so hard I heard it hit the bed, his balls emptying their precious babies in a pile of mess. I pulled his body back to rest against mine, his smooth white back on my hairy stomach, wet and sticky, both our hearts thudding from front to back.
“Fucking hell,” he sighed.
“Agreed,” I joked.
My cock plopped out of his shitter and I held it under his ass for a second.
“Can you do me a favour?” I asked.
And he did.
The next morning Jay woke to my usual trick. A cock in his face. But this time it was glazed. Adam had squirted my load out of his pretty little gape, along my cock like mustard on a hot dog. The smell of his sweaty cunt and my juicy load made for a heady mix for Jay to wake to. As he took a sniff and a lick of my prick he looked up at me, confused.
“What’s your cock smell of?”
“Adam in number 80,” I told him.
After I’d told him the whole horny story, working him up into a frenzy as I fucked his throat and gobbled his hard on down, he blew his morning load down my throat. I even had some juice left in my balls to paint his pretty face with. Then, post-coital over coffee, Jay and I came to the conclusion that not all WhatsApp groups were bad. We’ve started our own. Me him and Adam in number 80.
Wanna join?
Feedback welcome at [email protected]
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