Good Neighbor Ch. 03

"When I walked into the men's room, Joel was standing at one of the urinals. He looked up and grinned--he knew it was going to be me. He turned and I could see his hard cock sticking out of his fly. I went up to him and before I knew what was happening he was kneeling before me, undoing my pants and taking my cock in his mouth. Brian and I had never even done oral sex, so that was my first blow job from a guy. God, it felt good. I felt lucky that Audrey didn't mind giving me head now and then, but Joel was so much better at it. Not as good as you, though.

"Before I blew my load, Joel quit and stood up. I thought he was expecting me to blow him so I started to get down on my knees, but he stopped me. He took a rubber out of his pocket and put it on me, then turned around, pushed his jeans down, and leaned his hands against the wall.

Marsh grimaced. "I hadn't ever fucked a guy before, but Joel didn't know that. The rubber was prelubed so I just put my cock against his asshole and pushed. He screamed--it must have really hurt. `What the fuck are you doing?' he said. I was so embarrassed at having to tell him this was my first time doing a guy. Joel was sweet, though--when I told him, he laughed. `Assholes are a little different from pussies, Marsh,' he said. So I got my first lesson in sodomy from my little intern. I managed to complete the task to his satisfaction."

He chuckled, then sighed. "I really liked Joel, but his quarter ended, he finished his internship and that was it. He said he would call me, but he never did."

"Interesting stories," I said.

"Since then, I've really tried to toe the line and not mess around. I love Audrey, I really do, and Jonah too. But then we moved here, and I saw you. Right next door."

Marsh stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. "Lucky Jonah threw the ball wild. But you know, I think I would have thrown it over the fence myself if he hadn't."

He glanced at the digital clock on the nearby endtable. "Damn, I've got to go pick him up. I can't believe the time went so fast."

He rolled over on top of me, and kissed me hard. I put my arms around him and held him tightly. After a moment, Marsh came up for air, saying "Got to stop or I won't go pick him up."

"I'll go with you," I offered.

"Sure, if you want," Marsh answered, a bit surprised. "He'll be glad to see you."

We pulled on our clothes and got in the car. During the short drive to the baby-sitter's house, I took Marsh's hand, feeling daring. He kept his eyes on the road but squeezed back.

Jonah came running out of the house with his arms extended as we pulled into the driveway, calling "Daddy! Daddy!" I stayed discreetly in the car while Marsh scooped him up, and exchanged a few pleasantries with the mother who had been keeping him. Then he brought him around to my door.

"Jonah, here's Uncle Rob. Want to ride in front with him?"

"Yeah!" Jonah shouted, and before I knew it a four-year old boy was parked in my lap.

"Want to stay and have Sunday supper with us?" Marsh asked as he drove. "Gourmet stuff--microwave chicken tenders, cubed carrots, applesauce and organic grape juice. Though you can have a beer instead of juice."

"Sounds delicious. I accept."

Marsh grinned at me and shook his head, not knowing quite what to make of this gay man who didn't mind spending time with his son. Truth was, I liked the little boy who was now chattering to "Uncle Wob" about Annie's wading pool, and watching a video that I figured out was "The Lion King." I also liked how his father treated him. The voice inside me demanded to know what on earth I thought I was getting into, but I ignored it.

The meal, though, turned out not to be so pleasant. Jonah had been too excited to nap, and turned cranky and argumentative. Marsh put up with it patiently until a plate of carrots hit the floor, scattering orange cubes all over the kitchen.

"That's it, sport. No applesauce for you. Time for your nap," he said, picking up the protesting, wailing Jonah. "Hold the fort," he said over his shoulder to me, "This could take a while," and disappeared up the stairs, Jonah's cries of "No nap, Daddeee..." becoming distant, though not totally inaudible.

I picked up the food on the floor and put it in the trash, then put everything perishable away in the fridge. Marsh reappeared just as I was rinsing and loading plates into the dishwasher. "You didn't have to do that."

"Everything okay?"

"Actually, he was peeved at being abandoned today, I think. One story and a little quiet time and off he went. He could sleep through a hurricane right now," he grinned, coming up to me and playfully squeezing my crotch. I gave him a warning look.

"I know, I know, not with the baby upstairs. Just my luck, to get myself a boyfriend with scruples." Abruptly Marsh put his arms around me and hugged me tightly. "I'm glad you came by."

I returned the hug, then drew back and looked him in the eye. "Will I see you again, Marsh?"

His brow knitted. "You're right, it's a bit complicated. I'll have to go to work as usual tomorrow, and in the evening I'll have Jonah, but I'll try and work something out for the rest of the week," he said.

I held his face in my hands, looking at his chiseled features. I was getting in too deep, too fast, but didn't know how to stop it from happening--nor did I want to.

I kissed him for the last time that day. "Promise?" I said.

He nodded, smiling slightly, his eyes aglow. "Promise."

PART SIX: MARSH AT ROB'S HOUSE

Marsh was as good as his word. He called me the next evening.

"How's Jonah?" I asked.

"He's fine. You sure are stuck on him," he teased.

"Well, he did bring us together."

"You're right. Listen, I've thought of something. How early could you get off of work this week?"

He explained his plan. He could tell Ann, Jonah's baby-sitter, that he was having to work late all this week, and ask her to keep him until six, meanwhile actually going in early and leaving early. If I could do the same, we'd have a couple of hours to ourselves before he had to pick up his son.

I got home the next day at four p.m. A few minutes later the doorbell rang. It seems strange to call Marsh Atkins a lover when we were alone together for a total of eleven, maybe twelve hours. But what hours they were.

One afternoon that week, while we were lying together in my bed, he asked me why I was scrutinizing his body so closely. I had been running my hand over the ridges of his abdominal muscles, gazing at them intently. "I'm starting to feel like I'm at the doctor's," Marsh laughed.

"I'm memorizing your body, in case I never get to do this again," I said. He laughed again and told me not to be so gloomy, but it was the simple truth. I wanted desperately not to forget any detail about Marsh, and it worked: I do remember a great deal about him--the scratchiness of his stubble, contrasting so agreeably with the softness of his lips; the mole on his left shoulder; the vein that snaked across his lower abdomen; the way his penis hung slightly off to the left when it was flaccid.

But what I remember most about that week was how much fun it was. Marsh hadn't just been talking when he told me he liked to play--and learn. I felt like a tutor with an overachieving student. Our study sessions were exhilarating, filled with laughter, gasps of surprise and groans and shouts of sexual release.

One afternoon we were in my house. Marsh had gotten me on my back and was standing on the floor by the bed, fucking me. To start the afternoon off I had shown him a scene from one of my favorite porno videos that showed two guys doing it that way, so of course he had to try it himself. We were going at it enthusiastically, Marsh holding my legs apart by the ankles, when suddenly a thoughtful look appeared on his face.

"What?" I asked.

"I was just thinking--ever done it in mid-air?"

"What do you mean, on a plane?"

"No. I meant--I'll show you. Put your arms around my neck," he said, bending down toward me. When I did this, he put his own arms underneath my back, grabbing my shoulders, and straightened up, lifting me into the air with him, our bodies still joined. I let out a whoop and Marsh grinned.

"Audrey likes being off the ground. You're a little heavier than she is."

He backed away from the bed, cradling me in his arms. Our eyes were locked together as he began to thrust again into me. I let my eyes sweep over his body, every muscle in action, the individual fibers standing out in his neck, shoulders, and upper arms. His skin glistened with sweat from his exertions. Shocks of pleasure coursed through me as his cock nudged my prostate with every contraction of his powerful gluteal muscles. I was totally under his control and at his mercy, and very quickly close to cumming.

At that moment, Marsh moved his head in a gesture signaling me to raise myself upward. He bent his face toward mine. Our lips met, and his tongue snaked into my mouth. I lost it then, incoherent whimpers of delight emerging from my throat as my cock came to life without my touching it, spraying thick ropes of cum over the tensed muscles in my stomach. I bucked and writhed in the throes of my first mid-air orgasm.

"Whoa there, boy," Marsh cried, hastily moving back toward the bed as he began to lose his grip on me. He got there just in time and I fell heavily onto the mattress. I lay there, my chest still heaving. I opened my eyes to find Marsh standing above me with his hands on his hips, condom-covered cock still hard, looking down at me with a satisfied smile.

"Like that?" he asked, panting.

"That was incredible," I managed to say when I caught my breath. "Can't remember the last time I came without touching myself."

Marsh peeled the rubber off of his cock and dropped it on the floor. He mounted the bed and straddled my body so that his cock was over my face. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and stretched out my tongue.

"Oh fuck," Marsh cried out a moment later, as I received the hot baptism of his semen, some shooting into my waiting mouth, the rest raining over my hair, face and throat. His load was enormous--I swallowed as much as I could, then opened my eyes to find him looking down at me, still holding his cock, with an expression almost of wonder. I imagined what he must be seeing--me, naked, covered with both my spunk and his, an expression of absolute contentment on my face. I pulled him down and we sealed our mouths together with his cum.

"Think maybe I'll skip working out tomorrow," Marsh said.

Another afternoon we tried the mirror trick. I braced myself against one wall of the bedroom while he entered me from behind, the narrow glass between our spread legs. It wasn't as easy for him to get the view I was getting, but still, Marsh enjoyed himself, pounding me vigorously in a fully upright pose for a while, his hands gripping my hips, then peering around my body at the mirror to get an eyeful of his cock drilling me from underneath. As for me, the sight of his shaft reaming my hole, our balls swaying in unison, was such a turn-on that, though I didn't spontaneously combust as I had when he was carrying me, it took only a few strokes of his big paw on my cock to send my cum spattering over mirror, floor and wall. He came himself seconds afterward, practically nailing me to the wall in his excitement. We sank to the floor exhausted then, him still inside me, his arms circling my heaving chest, kneeling over the stained glass like two spent wrestlers.

It's hard to believe we crammed all that frenzied sex into just an hour or two each day. Strange to say, though, I enjoyed the time I spent with Marsh when we weren't fucking almost as much. At the end of each afternoon we would clean up the mess we had made, jump into a quick shower together, then go pick up Jonah. Usually we took him straight home, fed him dinner, then Marsh would take him upstairs for his bath and bedtime story. I would wait in the living room until he came down again, Jonah safely asleep, and we would cuddle together on the couch watching TV if we didn't have work to do, or tap intently on our respective laptops if we did.

As I grew more attached to both father and son it became easy to fantasize that we were really a family, at least when Marsh wasn't talking to Audrey on the phone. One evening we went to the mall, a gigantic, child-friendly haven that even had a playscape in the middle. Jonah, allowed to stay up late for this special treat, ran delightedly down the rows of shops ahead of us, stopping only at the window of the toy store. Nothing would do, of course, but that we take him in and buy him something, so we did. It's remarkable how having a sweetly rambunctious four-year old with you makes it so much easier to make friends with strangers. No one seemed to find it strange that Jonah had two daddies along with him, or at least a daddy and an uncle of some sort.

Toward the end of our outing we ducked into a automatic photo booth, the three of us. The booth made two copies of the picture and Marsh gave me one. I still have it, though it's curled and faded--Marsh and me smiling at the camera, Jonah lolling between us, tired but happy, Marsh's hand ruffling his son's hair--the nearest I've gotten to having a family.

TO BE CONTINUED...