Over the Fence

"My pleasure!"

And with that, he disappeared from behind the fence, and I finished up my sweeping.

***

And so it went. Over the next few months, Callum and I continued our tentative friendship. We loaned each other books, passing them over the fence and discussing them while we paced our courtyards or leaned against the fence. I continued to catch glimpses of his body through the narrow gaps in the palings. He wasn't always in his underwear, and even a few times I could tell he was fully dressed, but he was topless and trouserless more often than not.

The little visual scraps--a pink nipple here, a swirl of blond hair there--would resurface in my fantasies, and when Alexis wasn't home I would jerk off and call on these titillating morsels to intensify my orgasms. The more I got to know Callum, the more attractive he became, and the more intense the orgasms.

***

One Friday night, a huge storm passed through the area while Alexis was away on a research trip a few towns over. The countryside and outer suburbs were drenched in torrential rain and pummeled with hail, and some of the rural roads and highways had been washed out. She decided to extend her trip for several days and squeeze in some extra work on her project. By the time the storm reached the city, it had already dumped all of its water but continued to lash the inner suburbs with angry winds.

That night, I sat on the sofa with my book, listening to the howling and shrieking. The narrow gap between the buildings caused a wind tunnel effect, and the sliding glass door to the patio rattled intermittently as the wind swept through like a non-stop invisible train.

After I had gone to bed, I heard a sudden crash out on the patio that nearly gave me a heart attack. I lay there, still as rock, listening for more crashes. When none came, I crept into the living area and couldn't see anything alarming. Seeing that all was well inside, I decided that I would investigate outside in the morning, and scurried back to bed.

That morning, I woke up to a surprisingly quiet day. The storm had either run out of puff, or had swept itself well clear of the city. I had a shower and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and went to survey the damage.

Peering out onto the patio, I saw a splash of soil across the pavers, the bedraggled remnants of some kind of plant, maybe a succulent, and a cracked plastic hanging pot, lying on its side against the edge of the garden bed, with the chains splayed out around it.

I stepped outside and looked up. A few stories up, I spied a balcony with a row of hanging pots swinging gently from the spandrels, with a noticeable gap in the spacing. The roaring winds had sent this one to its death on my patio.

Walking over to the destroyed plastic pot, I saw that a conifer shrub in the corner of the garden was bending over awkwardly. On closer inspection, I saw that several palings from the fence behind the shrub had come loose, and fallen to rest in the springy, needled foliage. The pot must have struck the fence on its way down, causing the palings to come loose, and leaving a wide gap. I eased the rogue palings off of the poor shrub and leaned them gently in the garden bed to tend to later.

Ducking my head under the top rail, I leaned into the gap in the fence to survey the damage. Gripping the paling on one side of the hole, I gave it a jiggle to see how secure it was. It didn't budge, and I was just about to head back inside to get my phone to photograph the the fence for the estate agent, when I was stopped in my tracks.

In full view from my vantage point in the newly breached fence, I saw a sun lounge on which a large, hairy, blond man was reclined. The lounge was side-on to me, at the other end of the patio, giving me a clear profile view of Callum. His thick, muscular legs were crossed over each other, and he laid back at a relaxed angle, not fully upright, with his forearms resting on his belly holding up the most recent book I had loaned him.

A pair of slides hung off his huge feet, one of them flapping lazily as he bounced his foot in the air. Thick, meaty calves and thighs punctuated by lithe yet sturdy knees and ankles gave me the strange and fleeting thought of turned table legs. At the top of his thighs were the signature tighty-whities, and I couldn't help but notice the pouch was well-filled, making a prominent hill in his lap, accentuated by the y-front seams framing it.

The waistband wrapped around his thick sides and disappeared under a round, full belly, which somehow looked firm and soft at the same time. In the shadow of the book he was holding, I saw his pecs, which were broad and powerful looking, but softly curved. I could tell that he was hairy all over; although the blond hairs were hard to distinguish against his pale skin from this distance, the morning sun glinted on them as his body moved and flexed with his breath and the bouncing of his foot.

All of this was crowned with that friendly, handsome face I had seen floating over the top of the fence.

And now, that handsome face was looking right at me.

I froze.

He didn't seem startled or agitated, but merely regarded me with a relaxed and serene expression on his face, like a cat watching the day pass by through a window.

I gasped, and to my horror, as I tried to straighten up and go back through the hole, I rolled an ankle on a rock, and tumbled forward.

"Ow... fuck... err, sorry!" I blustered as I managed to right myself. I was now completely and totally on the other side of the fence, standing in Callum's garden bed, while he just lay there, almost naked, gazing at me intently. My face burned with embarrassment, and I was completely mortified at my invasion of his privacy. This was no fleeting glance between fence palings while having a conversation. This was something else!

He lowered the book nonchalantly, letting it flop forward against his chest, and pointed to his corner of the patio, where our building ended.

"There's a gate right there you know," he smirked at me, as I stood there like a frightened rabbit.

"I'm so sorry... the fence was broken... I was just looking... at..."

He raised an eyebrow, and stopped talking, completely unsure where to look.

He broke into a hearty laugh that seemed to resonate from deep within his thick abdomen. I gawped at him, all pretence of trying not to look gone. He pivoted his body in the seat of the lounge, lay the book down on the cushion, swung his big legs over the edge and stood up.

I felt my dick twitch in spite of the boner-killing embarrassment and awkwardness. He was taller than me, by at least few inches, and he wasn't as toned and defined as he was in my masturbation fantasies. But rather, he was far more delicious!

His arms and chest had a padding of soft flesh, smoothing any angles and giving them pleasant yet masculine curves. This did not belie the substantial, solid musculature beneath. Similarly, his round belly extended from a thick trunk that seemed soft yet taut at the same time.

The plumpness of his body seemed to enhance his broad, powerful frame rather than obscure it, and the thick covering of smooth, blond body hair served to highlight and emphasize the pleasing lines of his meaty physique. Even though I was quite stocky and broad myself, and not that much shorter, I immediately felt smaller, and involuntarily I took an intimidated step backwards.

He'd stopped laughing, but he was smiling at me.

"Do you wanna come in for a coffee?" He motioned to the glass door across from us.

It took a moment for my brain to parse what he'd just asked me. "Oh... sure, that would be nice," I managed.

"Great!"

As he began trudging in his bear-like way towards his apartment, he casually readjusted the heavy-looking pouch of his underwear with a square, fuzzy hand. He did it in that completely natural and unthinking way that all guys readjust themselves, but he wasn't wearing clothes, and I couldn't tear my eyes away.

I took a few steps to follow him, and stopped. "Oh, I don't drink coffee actually," I blathered. Immediately, a voice in my head shrieked "Drink the fucking coffee, James! Drink whatever he puts in front of you!" The thought of completely sabotaging this interaction with Callum sent a panicked and disappointed chill across my scalp, and my cheeks burned even harder.

"Ah... Well, I have tea. Or juice. Or water," he said. He turned to give me an appraising look. "But, it's okay if you need to go." There was no guile in his tone; his face remained warm, smiling, and friendly. Maybe I hadn't blown it yet.

"Oh, that would be great!" I chuckled nervously, and followed after him as he slid open the glass door and led me into his apartment. He kicked off the slides at the threshold, and his big, wide feet made soft slapping sounds on the tiled floor inside. He gave a dismissive wave as I stopped to take my loafers off, so I left them on.

Aside from the furnishings, it was an exact mirror of Alexis' and my apartment. The kitchen, breakfast bar and living area were configured in the same layout but flipped. I looked around and took the space in.

It smelled pleasant, not scented per se, but clean and homely. The furniture in the living room wasn't matchy, but all complimented each other; dark wood pieces with a classic, timeless style. The sofa and armchairs were accented with just enough cushions and throws to look cozy and inviting. Around the walls, Callum had squeezed bookcases into almost every space that would accommodate them.

He was pottering about in the kitchen. "Is orange juice okay?" he asked.

"Yes please; that's perfect."

I watched his broad back as he reached up to fetch a glass from a cupboard; his thick upper arms shifted and flexed, and the valley widened between his broad shoulder blades. His back wasn't quite as hairy as his front. There was a light dusting of blond hairs along his shoulder blades, and some lighter, fuzzier hairs trailing from the small of his back down into the waist of his underpants. But, his flanks were mostly smooth.

He turned and pushed the glass across the formica surface of the breakfast bar towards me with a smile.

"Thanks!" I took the glass, and he turned back to prepare the coffee machine. I kept expecting him to excuse himself to go put more clothes on, or even just a robe, but he never did. He remained in the kitchen, ambled back and forth, getting the associated accoutrements; mug, spoon, sugar, milk. I marveled at his huge body, those thick, strong arms, the delicious fur, those smooth, sturdy curves that somehow seemed both wholesomely endearing and electrifying sexy at the same time.

"Feel free to look," he said over his shoulder. I almost spat juice back into the glass. "If there's anything you want to borrow, feel free."

The books, James, he meant the books.

Shrugging off my sheepishness, I wandered into the living room and began surveying the bookcases. He had excellent taste! There were so many books peppered through his shelves that I had read and loved, and plenty more that I'd heard of before and piqued my interest. I held the glass in one hand, sipping the cool, tart juice at intervals, and my other hand walked along the endless rows of book spines.

Here and there I would remark about this book or that, and he would issue grunts of agreement or offer chatty little anecdotes. The coffee machine had stopped, and I heard him take a sip of his coffee and set the mug down on the counter. It was quiet in Callum's apartment now, and while the electric crackle of nerves and excitement was still there, a pleasant, amiable, calm had settled in the room, as the soft, post-storm sunlight poured languidly through the windows.

I was surveying a bookcase with my back to the kitchen, and realized that we hadn't spoken for a few moments. I went to take a sip from the glass, but I'd finished the juice. I sensed movement over my shoulder, and turned to find Callum behind me.

I'd been so absorbed in book browsing that it startled me. For the first time, a look of uncertainty sailed across Callum's face like the shadow of clouds on a lake, and his thick, yellow eyebrows furrowed over his glossy, emerald eyes. "Sorry, I was just going to take that for you," he said, pointing to empty glass in my hand.

"Oh, thanks!"

I turned to face Callum straight on, we were now face to face, a foot away from each other, without any fence between us. I could have melted on the spot. I wondered how my imagination hadn't even come close to doing justice to this broad, brawny beast in front of me, and a warmth that started in my cheeks spread across my skin, all over my body. I felt that familiar sensation of tightness in my pants, and a twitch of pressure against the fly.

As I handed him the glass, he closed one of his big, square hands around it, and I wasn't sure whether it was deliberate or not, but some of our fingers overlapped. I felt like the needle skipped in my brain for a fraction of a second, and the touch of his fingers on mine was electric. Instantaneously, a wave of foolishness passed over me--calm down, James, it's just a touch--but I imagined those old gag buzzers that zap someone when they shake your hand, the ones they sold in the toy stores right next to fake blood and whoopee cushions.

But the touch lingered, and as Callum finally took the glass from my hand and placed it on a side table, I looked up into that square, handsome face. This close to him, I could see a pink flush to his cheeks, spreading softly out from under his well-groomed beard, and the faintest dusting of translucent brown freckles. His rich green irises had fine rings of gold towards the edges.

I realized that he was gazing right back at me. He seemed to be looking for something in my face and, finding it, he lifted a corner of his mouth in a soft smile.

"You've been looking at me," he said, his voice soft but low and measured. The directness stunned me.

"I... the fence was broken..."

He chuckled. "I mean before that."

I stared at him, my mouth slightly agape, and the prickling blush across my cheeks intensified.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

Time seemed to speed up, and my awareness narrowed sharply so that only Callum was in focus. I nodded.

He stepped towards me, closing the distance between us, the summit of his round belly touched mine, and the cloth of my shirt suddenly seemed far too thick and inconvenient. He placed a hand on either side of my face, the thick thumbs gently stroked my cheeks. After gazing into my eyes for another moment he leaned his head down and his firm mouth met mine. We kissed slowly and gently, touching out lips together tentatively.

My hands found purchase on his sides, just above his love handles. He pulled his face away from mine and leaned back to look me in the face again, and almost as if I were afraid that he would step away from me entirely, my hands reached further around his back and upwards a little, and I felt the warmth radiating from his torso.

I gazed back into his eyes, still stunned at what was happening. Callum grinned at me with a self satisfied look on his face and in a split second his lips were back on mine. There was nothing gentle about it this time, it was hard and persistent. As his lips parted, I parted mine in reply and his tongue was immediately in my mouth. I moaned and sucked his writhing tongue, and my arms tightened around his back.

I felt his strong hands spread over my shoulders, gave them a firm squeeze. He broke the kiss, and leaned back a little, while his hands traveled from my shoulders, along the neckband of my t-shirt and down toward my chest. Through the jersey fabric, he caressed and massaged my pecs, which were much softer and less muscular than his. He reached a finger up and hooked it into my neckline, pulling it down to expose the black dusting of chest hair. He smirked, and gave a gruff rumble of approval.

His arms wrapped around my back, his hands sliding under the hem of my tee, scooping it upwards. Giving way to instinct, I raised my arms and the t-shirt was gone in an instant.

I closed the small gap between us and kissed the gentle valley in the center of his chest, feeling the warm skin and soft filaments of hair against my lips. I kissed my way upwards along his collarbone, into the crook of his shoulder, along the thick trunk of his neck. His huge fingers traced and kneaded the lines of my back, and the pleasure of it shimmered through my body like sunlight on water.

I kissed along his jawline, our beards bristling together until my lips found his again. I kissed his bottom lip, pulling on it gently, then I kissed his top lip. His mouth fell open and his breath was warm and sweet on my face. We sealed our mouths together again, and our tongues wrestled in the vacuum.

He pulled me tightly against him. The expanding mound in the front of his underpants fit perfectly between the similar mound in my pants and the curve of from my wait to my belly. I felt waves of heat on my skin, from above the waistband of my pants where his cock hardened against me to where our torsos pressed together, hairy chest to hairy chest.

An image of velcro being pushed together popped into my mind, and I broke the kiss to chuckle. He pulled away and gave me a wry smile.

"What are you giggling at?" he asked.

My blush intensified. "Nothing... sorry...".

He considered me for a moment and asked, "Is this okay?"

I nodded. Instead of stumbling over words, I decided to prove it was okay. I kissed him hard and hungry, and then with my hands I held him back slightly, allowing myself a moment take in this delicious sight. I splayed my hands over his blond furry chest, and as I slid them down over his belly, I leaned in to take a nipple into my mouth.

After a sharp intake of air, he groaned with pleasure. Encouraged, I went to town on that nipple with my mouth, while the fingers of one hand found the other. I put my tongue to work, pushing the tip against the firm pink button of flesh, around it, over it, and when it was slick with my spit, I let it go to blow air over it gently. Then, my mouth was back over it, sucking, nibbling, gently and carefully pulling at it with my teeth.

I swapped to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, while my other hand gave the first nipple its due attention.

As I tongued and pinched his nipples, Callum continued to purr with pleasure while his hands roamed over my back and neck. The fingers of one hand slid into the hair at the back of my head, rubbing and caressing in encouragement.

The swirls of blond hair across his chest met and thickened in a golden thatch the stretched in a line down the center of his chest and belly, disappearing into the waistband of his underpants. Following this path of hair, I began kissing downwards, lowering myself as I went. At last, I reached the waistband, and I was completely on my knees.

My hands gripped him at the waist, and I looked up at his exquisite face, peering down at me over the fuzzy mound of his belly. A twinkle of anticipation lit his beautiful green eyes. Looking back in front of me, his y-fronts were tented tightly over his dick, straining to hold it against his body. The fabric had darkened around the tip, where he had already started leaking precum heavily.

I took in a deep breath; Callum in general smelled fresh and clean, faintly of soap, but down here where the heat of his body was focused, there was a warm, musky accent to it. Gingerly, I tilted my head and reached my tongue out towards the thick ridge pressed into the white fabric.

His dick twitched on contact, and I slowly licked my way along the fabric, following the the wide, fleshy line of his shaft. As I reached the waistband, I let go of his hips and slipped my fingers behind the elastic, shimmying the front of his underwear down. His cock sprang forth like a freed jack-in-the-box and bounced again my cheek with a soft slap. I heard him gasp with pleasure above me.