Good Neighbor Ch. 01

"Now just what is it that you want again?" I asked.

Stan growled playfully. "You cockteasing bastard. If you don't shove it up there right now, someone's going to get hurt."

In answer, I picked up the condom and lube off the floor and tore open the wrapper. After I had sheathed and greased myself I took another fingerful of the gel and applied it to his ass, letting first one finger, then two slip inside the opening. I watched the smile on my man's face, the play of lustful emotion in his eyes as I crooked my fingers upward, pressing against the firm nub of his prostate.

I withdrew and rose to my feet. Stan turned to the side so that he was lying sideways on the couch, raising his legs once more. I mounted the cushions and put my dick against his asshole, then slowly pushed forward until I sank into the smooth heat of his gut. Stan sighed again and let his head fall back, his mouth opening slightly. His eyes had lost their focus. "Rob," was all he said, but I knew I had him exactly where he wanted to be.

I bent down until my face was next to his and whispered, "How are you doing?"

Stan shook his head, bewildered, no longer smiling. "How the fuck do you it? Make me feel like this?"

"I could say the same, buddy," I said, just before I put my lips to his. As we kissed, I began to move my hips, thrusting in and out of him. After weeks of doing without, it felt damn good.

I drew back and grasped his ankles, varying the angle of entry, looking down at my latex-covered pole sliding in and out of his hairy hole, a sight that never lost its erotic fascination for me. Above it I saw Stan's ball sack flopping around as he grasped his own cock with one big paw and jacked it in rhythm with my thrusts. His other hand braced himself against the arm of the couch. I shifted my gaze to his face, dreamy with lust. He caught my eye and smiled, no longer challenging, acknowledging my mastery of him.

"Fuck me."

"You got it." I bent forward, stretching out as best I could on the narrow piece of furniture, and began to drill my cock into him in earnest. Stan's legs were over my shoulders, his body bent double under mine, his face now fierce with encouragement, willing me toward my climax. I wasn't going to need much pushing to get there.

"C'mon Rob, shoot that fucking load, give it to me, man."

"Oh god, here it comes," I said through gritted teeth as I felt myself go over the edge. "Take it, fucker--" and then I was shouting and grunting incoherently, my eyes squeezed shut as I felt my cock unload in hard spurts into the rubber buried inside him.

"Don't stop," Stan hissed, the hand on his cock moving frantically. "Here I cum, man. Here I cum. Aw, shit," he groaned. I looked down in time to see two or three good spurts of thick white fluid jet from his organ and fall on his hairy chest.

I finally stopped moving and let my full weight rest on him. Stan wrapped one arm around me, his cum gluing our bodies together, as our breathing returned to normal. After a while he moved, and I realized that his body was still folded underneath me. I withdrew, releasing him, and headed for the bathroom to get cleaned up.

"Run the shower, would you, guy?" Stan called.

"Only if you let me join you."

We soaped and rinsed each other at a leisurely pace under the steamy spray. Often when I was over at his place this led to another bout of sex, but somehow today was different. Stan merely smiled at me as I watched the soapy water wash over and temporarily smooth down the hair on his head and body.

Eventually the hot water ran out. After getting out and drying each other off, we headed to his bedroom and stretched out on the bed. Stan laid his head on my chest, kissing it several times. He looked up at me, and though he was smiling, the challenge in his eyes had returned.

"So where the fuck have you been?"

"Busy," I replied carefully.

"You get yourself another boyfriend or what?"

"No. But," I continued, deciding to be honest, "There's someone I'm kind of interested in."

"Who?"

"He's moved into the house you were working on."

Stan grinned, but there was a wistful look in his eye. "Another yuppie stud right next door. Damn."

"Well, it's not the ideal match. He's married and has a kid."

He rolled his eyes. "You going after a straight guy? Christ, Rob."

"I know, I know. Stupid, huh?"

"Looks like it just might be curtains for old Stan. Well, it was nice while it lasted." Stan's tone was still lighthearted, but the resigned way he shook his head made guilt well up in me. I tried to make amends.

"It's not like anything's happened, Stan."

"It will, though. I know you."

I started to say I hoped he was right, and stopped myself just in time. Not knowing what else to do, I reached out and touched his face. Stan took my hand with his own, turned his head and kissed my palm. His unexpected tenderness made me feel worse, as if he'd slapped me instead.

"What can I say?"

"Nothing, man. Don't worry, I'll get over it. It's not like I'm in love with you or anything," he said, a bit defiantly. "Not like Gary."

"Who's Gary?"

"Buddy of mine. We worked on some projects together. He picked up a guy in Bull Creek Park, some college professor. Fell head over heels for him. The guy drove Gary crazy, whining about his partner, his job, not calling for months. Finally Gary couldn't stand any more and took a job in Florida. That stupid shit ran him out of town. Not me."

"Not you."

"I knew I'd never make it to any of your fancy office parties."

"Jesus, make me feel like a total worm, why don't you?" I protested.

Stan grinned. "Just giving you a hard time, Rob. Think I need a beer. Want one?"

We sat in the living room with our beers. I pulled my jeans back on, but Stan sprawled naked on the couch. I looked at him and I wondered why I couldn't be satisfied with what I had. He saw me checking him out.

"You look just like you did that first time I saw you through the window."

"Stan, I want us to stay friends," I said. Suddenly that was very important to me.

He shrugged, not giving anything away. "Sure, man. Whatever you want."

I left Stan's duplex feeling as if I'd broken up with a lover over someone else. Only Stan wasn't my lover, and there wasn't a someone else, except in my mind. Whatever you want, he had said--the problem was, what I wanted most, I couldn't have. Or maybe the problem was, I didn't know what I wanted. I'd met someone I'd been longing to get to know for weeks, I'd had great sex with a good buddy--and still this was turning out to be a lousy weekend. What the hell was wrong with me?

I sighed, started the engine and drove home.

TO BE CONTINUED...