My Neighbor's Spa Ch. 04

I fled Marty's hot tub as soon as I came fully back into consciousness. They had left me there, hunched over in the seat of the hot tub, and were now much more interested in each other than in me.

Neal was still standing there when I brushed by, and we exchanged looks. I was too exhausted and conflicted to flirt in any way, but he gave me a look that told me that he too planned to fuck me when he had the opportunity.

Marty had called out to me "Great fuck. See you down here tomorrow night," as I left, and I hadn't bothered to retort. I had gotten much more than I had bargained for. I'd played with fire and gotten very burnt. I needed to get my life back in order.

I didn't even know right then whether I wanted to get anything on with Neal—or even wanted to tempt myself by watching him anymore.

My wife would be gone for nearly a week more.

The next day I got up late and soaked in the bathtub, both because I was incredibly sore and because I wanted to wash the dirt of my indiscretion completely from my body. At that point, I thought I had to put this all behind me. The rest of the day I worked furiously at my computer, buried in my paperwork from the firm, not giving myself any space to think about what had happened and how I had so wantonly volunteered for it. I couldn't blame Marty. I had thrown myself into his clutches.

I couldn't blame him that it was all because I lusted after Neal either. I had a brief flurry of thought that Marty knew that and had brought Neal into his home to push me over the edge of letting Marty fuck me. But as soon as I'd thought it, I realized how idiotic it was. Neal obviously went to the gym a lot—I could tell that from the body work that turned me on so much. They'd just met at the gym like Marty had met all of the other guys he brought home.

I fixed myself an evening meal that required considerable work and turned the TV to CNN while I ate it, throwing busyness at my mind, not wanting to think about what had happened and how it had affected me.

It was dark when I returned to my home office. I raised my hand to turn on the light, but it hovered there. The glow from the lights around my neighbor's hot tub filtered in through the open window at the side of the house. I could hear the gurgling of the water being whooshed around in the hot tub. I moved to the window, telling my legs no, but being ignored.

Neal was sitting on the rim of the hot tub, naked, his erect cock in his fist. A younger man was sitting beside him, someone I'd never seen before. Perhaps a bit younger than I was. Very well muscled; obviously another one of Marty's gym pickups. He also was naked and had a long, thin cock that bent up toward his stomach in its full erection.

The two men were whispering to each other, but they both were looking up—looking up at my window. Waiting for me.

My Speedo was still damp from the previous evening and my hands were trembling as I struggled to pull it over my hips, wondering why I even was bothering with it. And then I was descending the stairs in the dark, walking through the front door, moving toward my neighbor's hot tub.

When I got there, Neal and the other guy were gone. Marty was standing in the door to the adjacent screened porch, though. He smiled at me.

"Come back for more, did you?"

I didn't answer him. What could I say? I was standing there in just a Speedo and flip-flops and with a towel around my neck.

"On second thought, not tonight," I said in tight voice.

"You should come and try out my spa—the new gym and sauna I had put in the basement," Marty said in a casual voice. He had an apple in his hand and took a big bite of that and gave me a wink while he chewed. He continued when he'd digested that bite. I just stood there like a dummy. "Got a massage table too, and one of the guy's a trained masseur. He's real good at it. A full-body massage. You look like you could use a good massage. All tense and everything."

"Yeah, maybe sometime," I answered and turned and started walking down his driveway. I wasn't wild that I'd then have to walk up mine along the fence between our lots, right across the path of his vision, knowing he'd be watching and amused with himself for my entire walk back to the safety of my house.

"That sometime could be about eight tomorrow evening," he said to my departing back. "Just walk on in. I'm sure you can find the stairs to the basement."

* * * *

Of course I was walking into Marty's house and looking for the stairs to the basement the next evening at eight. I could hear the huffing and puffing from below the house as soon as I walked through the screen porch on the back of his house and into the family room. The stairs down were right under the stairs in the entrance foyer up to the second floor. That's where the five bedrooms of Marty's tenants were, no doubt. Marty had had a two-room suite, with bathroom, extended out the back from a den behind the living room for his own use. Very private, and it had its own entrance onto the back patio.

I met Marty coming up the stairs as I was going down. He was wearing just a jock strap; I was a bit more fully dressed. I had gym clothes on over my jock strap. He barred the way as I was going down the stairs and wrapped an arm around me.

"I knew you'd come," he whispered. "I liked it the other night. Did it for you too, didn't it?"

I didn't answer, but I didn't struggle to get away.

"I have more to show you, more ways to fuck you and send you over the moon. You know that the extension off the back of the house has my rooms in it, don't you?"

"Yes," I said. He'd told Sandra what the addition was for while it was being built.

"And you know it's got a private entrance off the patio, don't you?"

"Yes," I answered. It was a breathy answer because he was tracing my cock through the material of my gym shorts with his free hand.

"And if I call and you can get away, you'll come over and use that entrance? I'll take you four ways from Sunday on the bed."

I looked away. "I . . . I'll think about it."

He gave a little laugh. My trembly voice hadn't convinced him any more than it had convinced me. I knew that when he called, I'd come if I could get away. This want of mine had gone much beyond just wanting to watch Neal screwing around under the hood of a car. I should have known what I was getting myself into—that I couldn't just stop it once it had started.

Knowing I hadn't fooled myself any more than I'd fooled him, I added, "But if I come over after Sandra's back, maybe I should come around to the other street—to your front door. The patio entrances on the back can be seen from my house."

His laugh was more throaty this time. "You go on down now and work out some in the gym. I scheduled you for a massage at nine. Then I'd suggest you try out the new sauna."

I couldn't help myself. "Is Neal down here?"

Marty laughed. "Go down and find out for yourself."

Neal wasn't in the gym room. Marty had spared no expense in putting in equipment. Only two other guys were there, and they were occupied. Seth was fucking another guy on a weight bench. He didn't even notice me when I came in. The other guy didn't notice me either. His head was lolling to one side with his tongue hanging out, and he was hanging on to a weight rack over his head for dear life. His groaning and grunting and low-husky-voiced emitting of "Fuck me, fuck me good; just like that" murmurs told me that Seth was showing him a good time.

I kept on the other side of the room, working with free weights, an elliptical trainer, and a treadmill until ten minutes before my massage was due. By then Seth had finished with the guy he was working and was giving me the eye.

"I've been scheduled for a massage," I called over to him. "And I just have time to hit the shower."

"We got time," Seth growled back. "Get you later."

I went half hard in the shower contemplating what Seth's "Get you later" might entail. I barely had time to wrap a towel around my waist and head for the room off the gym room that had "Massage" posted on a sign on the door. The signs were formal copper-plated plaques. Marty had spared no expense in his little gym and spa down here. It was just honey to entice the bees to him, though. I fully understood that.

Entering the massage room, I almost dropped my towel. The masseur was Neal, and he was wearing just a jock strap.

"Hi there, Mr. Stevens. Coming in for a service, are you?"

"Neal. You're the masseur?"

"Sure, it helps with the rent. I took both auto mechanics and massage therapy. Neither one pays enough for me by itself. So, hop on up on the table, on your stomach, and let's get started."

As soon as I went down on my belly on the table, he whipped off my towel, and there I was. I have to admit that he was as good a masseur as he was an auto mechanic. And he danced around the table just like he danced around Jaguars. I had no idea I had the sore muscles he found and then made feel wonderful. And as he danced and pranced around, my turned face was at the level of his bounding basket—and I just about hyperventilated.

But as he was finishing up my back and legs, it was another muscle that was getting all of my attention—and I was afraid there was no way he wouldn't notice that one too and the condition it was in. He had me conflicted. He was giving me a straight massage—and a really good one. He hadn't said anything suggestive; he hadn't said anything at all. There was no come on or any asking what I wanted or telling me what he might be interested in.

But I soon as I rolled over, he'd know what I wanted and what I was interested in.

"You can turn over now."

"Ummm, maybe in a minute or two," I croaked in response. But who was I fooling? A minute or two wasn't going to make a bit of difference.

"If you're afraid I'll see your hard-on, you needn't worry," Neal said, with a laugh. "I was counting on you having that. This is where the full body part of the massage starts."

I groaned as I rolled over, and then I just kept on groaning as the massage became sensual. It was no less a deep, healing massage for my muscles than the back massage had been, but it also became a groping and gliding and tweaking and soft-pumping procedure that had me dancing on the clouds even before Neal lowered his mouth over my tool and brought me to ejaculation.

"Turn over again."

Mellow and zoning out, I did as Neal commanded without another thought. But then I felt the restraints he was latching on my wrists and ankles at the top and bottom sides of the table.

"Hey! What's . . .?" was all I got out as he was pushing a pillow under my belly, which raised my ass.

"Time to pay the landlord," Neal murmured with a little laugh. I turned my head in time to see that it was Marty—wearing only a condom—climbing up on top of me on the table. He fucked me doggy style for nearly twenty minutes by my consultation of a clock on the wall. He released the restraints when he was done, and I just lay there for another ten minutes or so, recovering. I had to admit it. It had been a good fuck.

But it hadn't been Neal.

Groaning, I got off the table, picked up my towel, and padded back to the shower.

Someday it would be Neal, I assured myself all the time I was showering. Someday I'd see if all of my dreaming about Neal was worth the effort—and worth everything that had resulted from that.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I went looking for the sauna room, finding it in the back corner of the basement. I opened the door and stepped in. And when my eyes had adjusted to the steam swirling about, my jaw dropped in surprise and my towel sank to the floor.

Neal was lounging on his back, his torso curved up the wall behind him, on the top bench of the sauna, his feet pointed at me and a big grin on his face. As I looked on, speechless, he opened the towel around his waist and let the edges drop to either side. His big, curved, hard cock was pointed at me too.

"Marty's been telling me that this is what you want. Shut the door and come over and suck this and then sit on it."

* * * *

"No peeking now, honey," I said, my hands over Sandra's eyes, as, standing behind her I guided her out the front door.

"What is it, Glen?" she asked. "Why all the silliness and the secrecy? Tell me . . . good god, Glen, what's that?"

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

"What is it? . . . it's huge."

"It's a Jaguar XF sedan, Sandra. Isn't it gorgeous? You love red. I know you do."

"Yes, it's . . . it's quite a car. But who's it for?"

"It's for you, of course. It's your birthday."

"My birthday isn't until next month. And I like my Toyota just fine."

"They had a deal running, dear. You have two Jaguars and you get service at home—in your own garage. I won't have to keep going to the dealer for service. And here's the real interesting part. Did you know that one of their mechanics lives right here, next door, at Marty's? We'll have our own personal mechanic to service us whenever it's convenient. Isn't that just great, Sandra?"

-FINI-