The bin store light was already on. The harsh yellow flooding out onto the concrete slab.
The sound of cascading bottles told him it hadn’t just been left that way. Sure enough, once Oliver was inside, he saw him; the downstairs neighbour.
They spoke now and then, but not often. Had each other's numbers in the event of emergency, but had never used them. He was shorter than Oliver was, though almost everyone was shorter than Oliver was. His hair was trendy, he had well kept stubble, and his arms spoke of regular trips to the gym. He couldn’t remember his name.
The other guy, finished emptying out the plastic bin he was carrying, finally clocked him.
“Oh, hey,” he said, somewhat subdued.
“Hey bro,” Oliver replied, sorting out his own rubbish.
But the guy didn’t leave as expected. When he turned he saw that he was starring at him. Actually, not at him exactly so much as taking him in, scanning him.
He seemed a little anxious.
“You good?”
It was less a question more a probe.
“Yeah man, sorry, just remembered something.”
Dropping cardboard into the bin, he cocked an eyebrow at him.
“And what's that?”
The man flushed, his body language becoming awkward.
“It’s nothing,” but he didn’t leave.
“Nah, come on, bro. You got a problem? Did I park in your spot or something?”
The man smiled, lightly, like he was in on some joke.
“Erm, no.”
Done with his chore, Oliver put the bin down and folded his arms.
“Come on, spit it out.”
He thought his tone was friendly but his words had an edge to them.
The guy began to fidget, like he was deciding what to do, and then forced himself to look Oliver in the eye.
“You keep your window open.”
He paused.
“And?”
“And…you keep your window open. When your girlfriend comes over.”
The man was bright red now, twisting the skin on his forearm back and forth,
He wasn’t following until the man raised his eyebrows.
“Oh,” he said, and felt a slight heat in his cheeks.
“You heard?”
The man nodded.
“Sorry man! I’ll, err, make sure to keep it closed from now on.”
The man stepped forward, arm half raised before he caught it.
“No, you don’t need to do that. I just thought you should know.”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I don’t mind,” the man said, smiling.
A prickle of understanding began along his spine, working its way up and over his head, and then down to his crotch.
He’d been a beast that night, his six fit four frame absolutely smashing her pussy. He’d impressed himself, honestly. He’d bragged about it with the lads the next day. And this guy had been a sort of unknown witness, heard him fuck Elouise.
Had he enjoyed it? Did he like hearing her moans? But then, she didn’t really moan that much. If anything he was always being told he was too noisy.
And then it clicked.
Ah, he thought.
He was getting off on him. It made sense now. The hair, the muscles, the smell of expensive aftershave.
He should probably close the window from now on, stop this guy from perving. But, honestly, he realised he didn’t mind either. Besides, his room got hot when he fucked.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just thought you might want a heads up.”
“Okay,” he said, “Well I guess if you don’t mind, I’ll keep it open, then - when its hot, that is.”
He left the bin store, leaving the man behind. His cock, a little fluffed in his pants from the memory of that night, was taking up part of his brain now, pushing the rational one aside.
This dude was totalling pounding his meat listening to him fuck. He should care, right?
Eloise was fucking milking his cock tonight. Her cunt clenching and releasing him in rhythm with his fucking. Her feet were pushed against his pecs, folding as he pushed down into her. She was encouraging him on, her voice low. He was answering his voice loud.
“You like that?” he kept asking, eyes widening in challenge, “You like this big fucking cock?”
“So big, baby!” she answered.
He grabbed her ankle in a vice grip in the cruck of his arm, let his legs slide wider, her hole widening with the last few centimetres of his schlong to enter. She gasped, and he was mewling.
Diving in again and again, he felt his balls begin their tell tale rise. A rise he’d been familiar with since he first learned to jerk off at 12. He was gonna blow.
His nut was as big as his roar was loud. He dumped his load deep all the way inside her, emptying himself into her womb, his body strained and fixed as his throat echoed and his manhood twitched.
Then, he heard it. A noise separated by masonry and distance. It came through the sash window. Low, and animalistic. Elouise, still in the throws of her own orgasm, didn’t hear it. But he did.
The man downstairs, he was cumming. Cumming listening to them. He knew it. His dick suddenly arced and an unexpected, final volley filled her past the brim, and he felt his load trickle down his rapidly descending balls.
The pattern continued for the next fortnight. Whenever he had Elouise over, or a one night stand he made sure she would never learn about, he would listen for the man. And every time, the man would answer with the telltale groans of cum being emptied out.
It made him grin.
They’d passed on the stairs only once since their unspoken routine had commenced. Oliver had starred, cockily as the man predictably, shrank, eyes downcast.
But Oliver didn’t close the window, and then man didn’t stop his guttural climaxes.
Then, one night, their paths crossed in the bin store. Oliver had finally had to accept that it was time to empty the bathroom pedal bin. There were only so many times he could crush everything down before physics intervened. But once again, the man was there emptying his bottles. Wine bottles, mostly.
The man hadn’t seen him yet. Oliver felt a swell of power, and adjusted his stance accordingly. Purposefully.
“How’s things?” he asked, startling the man.
“Oh, hi,” he said, that familiar flush returning.
“How you been? Good?”
“Yeah, thanks,” he said, shyly, moving for the exit.
But Oliver lent against the doorframe, the bin dangling by his side.
“Had any fun lately?” he asked, smirking.
The man's eyes flicked up, and slowly a tenuous smile stretched across his face, his cheek now crimson with guilt.
“A little.”
“Good bro, everyone should let off some steam now and then.”
“Like you?” the man ventured, a daring glint in his eye.
Oliver answered by inflating his frame, becoming bigger.
“Oh yeah man, absolutely. We’ve all got needs, right?”
Then, he opened the pedal bin, and started to empty it by hand. A deodorant can, a shower bottle, and then, a rubber full of cum, tied off at the end. He made a show of it, letting the man see. His eyes went wide. It was an impressive load. He’d been drunk when he’d filled it up, cumming inside it so he didn’t get that random knocked up.
“Errr…” the guy said, eyes fixated.
Oliver draped it on the edge of the industrial bin, and then emptied the rest of the contents in one dump.
“Anyway, gotta go. See you round.”
He left the man behind. As he rounded the stairs, he peaked back. The man was holding the condom up, marvelling at the teet filled with his silvery cream.
His cock expanded down his trouser leg.
Their little rituals continued, and grew. The windows remained firmly open, even as the weather turned. Sometimes he’d be jerking off, and lubing his cock, and think about the man. He’d rock his bed back and forth, pant a little louder, and wait. The man always answered with his own noises.
He began wearing condoms with Elouise, saying it was so he could last longer. She embraced it. Sometimes he would leave them on the man's back door, draped over the door knob. But then he got more daring. Sneaking downstairs in his boxers, slotting the condom through the letter box.
Then the man would return them. Always empty. It made him hard. He wasn’t sure why. He tried watching gay porn, but it did nothing for him, and blew his load watching MMF porn.
He wondered what he did with the cum. Swallow it, he guessed, But maybe not? Maybe he used it as lube? Or poured it into some container in his fridge. He liked to think the last one wasn’t true.
One day they ran into each other in the reception.
“Hey,” the man said, unexpectedly. Still shy but a little more sure of himself.
“Hey.”
His eyes drifted to Oliver's crotch, currently framed in grey joggers. He knew he was sporting a decent VPL, which is why he owned them. Why he wore them.
“Erm, I got a parcel with your name on it.”
That was odd. He hadn’t ordered anything. The man told him to wait, and after a moment in his flat, returned with an elongated cardboard box.
It had a weight to it, but not even.
“Thanks,” he said. The man nodded, and with a brief smile, went back to his apartment.
One upstairs he took a knife and started to cut into the parcel tape.
It was a fleshlight. A transparent, full fleshlight with pussy lips and clit.
His cock throbbed as he poked at the silicone with his finger.
That fucker. He’d bought this!
His cock had snaked down his leg, and precum was already staining the cotton.
Not caring, he yanked them below the cheeks of his ass, and took the free sachet of lube, slathered it across his curved shaft, massaging it under his foreskin and over his head, and sank into it there and then in the kitchen.
It felt amazing, hugging him. He held it down with both hands, trapped by the counter top. He fucked into it, rocking back and forth on his toes. He watched the reddish-pink of his cock slide back and forth through the plastic and silicone sleeve, his head flaring as it left and returned to his foreskin. He was actually watching himself fuck. The whole situation was too spontaneous, too much. He saw his nut. His cock expanded, pushed the silicone sleeve outward, and then the spew of white, hot liquid.
Spent, he withdrew, breathing heavily. He picked up the toy and looked at it. It was expensive and so horny. He tilted it, watching his spunk, his sperm, flow back and forth. He almost washed it, but thought better. This wasn’t some idle gift, it was an escalation. The man wanted something, and watching his load cling to the tunnel walls, he knew what.
He went downstairs, careful to keep the toy level, and knocked on the door. A moment later the man appeared. Before he could say anything, he handed him the still warm toy, and without saying a word went back upstairs.
They swapped back and forth for weeks. Sometimes handing it over, sometimes just leaving it by the others back door. They never spoke about it.
The first time Oliver got it back he was surprised to find it was still full of cum. At first he thought he’d misunderstood, until he realised that there was more than he’d dumped earlier that day.
When he finally realized that the other man had added his own load, he wasn’t sure what to do. First he laughed, then he felt a bit revolted. Why hadn’t he just emptied it? Did he not want to taste it? Isn’t that what he did?
Then, a few hours later, he realised what the man had done. It was a message. You made me cum. This is how I use your cum.
It was lube.
They were sharing a pussy now. Not a real one, obviously. The guy was clearly gay. But somehow the dude was, kind of, what? Trying to bond with him? Or was he just a fetish? For the first time he wondered who was using who.
He wasn’t ready to use it the same way, and so dumped the sticky contents down the sink, washing it clean with his fingers.
But as time went on he thought about it less and less as the new routine became comfortable. He’d even had Elouise use it on him, sneaking downstairs to hand it to the man. They had both been in boxers, both sporting wood.
As always, no words were spoken. But Oliver was back to his cocky self, whilst the guy stared at his long cock, sheathed in cotton.
He never fucked the fleshlight with the mans load in it. It felt kind of…odd. Instead, he did something much more fucked up.
One night, when he had a random under him, cunt lips grasping at his tool, and filming it on snapchat for his mates to compliment him on tomorrow, he had an idea. He told the woman he’d be back in a moment.
He went into the bathroom, and took the fleshlight out. It was full of their dual load. He’d meant to wash it earlier but he’d been in a rush to head out. Now, it was perfect. He turned his phone video on, and flexed his body in the mirror, turning full circle so his back muscles, glutes, and thighs got their fair share of the spotlight. His cock, big and arcing upwards, was undoubtedly what the guy really cared about. He took the fleshlight, turned up upside down, and let their loads drip on to his boner. He rubbed it in, making sure his smirk was in shot, then, camera still in hand, returned to his one night stand, and plunged his fat pole all the way. Their mixed cum, gay and straight, made him glide in, and in no time he was filling her cunt with a fresh batch.
As usual, he posted the story on his alternate snapchat, the one he and his mates used to update each other on their pussy pounding antics.
The next day, the man downstairs found the fleshlight by the backdoor, a piece of paper with a username stuck to the surface.
Oliver waited, until later, an add request popped up. The man watched his story.
Then, the man posted. Posing naked in the mirror, hand holding his cock, moving in a circle. He was built, much more than he was. He admired him, but he wasn’t turned on.
Then, one night, he was at home, reading a magazine on his iPad, when he heard something.
Rhythmic slamming. He smiled. His neighbour was getting some. It wa the first time he was aware of.
Later, as he went to bed, he found the man had sent him a video.
Another man, tall, dark hair, was totally naked and on his knees between the thickly muscles thighs of another. The man smiled awkwardly, hesitant, but the instructions from the voice wear clear.
“It’ll be so fucking hot, dude. I came in it earlier, just pour it out. Fuck me with my own cum.”
“You’re so fucked up,” the man said, then did as he was told, smearing the contents of the toy all over his cock.
“Ready?” the man asked, stroking his considerable weapon.
He watched, his own cock expanding, as the man filmed himself entering the bottoms smooth hole, the pearlescent white streaked across his firm shaft as he worked it inside.
He didn’t need to ask. He knew it was his load.
Poetic, vengeful fucker, he thought.
After that they would swap videos of their conquests, but over time, they fell out of their carefully learned rituals. The windows closed during winter rain and weren’t reopened. The fleshlight was swapped less and less. The videos continued but they lost their visceral throb. Their provocation.
Then one day, the man moved out. Boxes filled the downstairs hallway, a van took them away. Oliver shrugged. It had been a fun, bizarre experience, but over now.
Then, a week later, he received a parcel.
Inside it, carefully wrapped, was the fleshlight. And next to it, tied up, was a condom with the biggest load he had ever seen, and a card with a return address.
He shook his head, but didn’t throw either away.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
