Page 1 of The Neighbor

1. Jeff

People say divorce is just another name for freedom, and I got to test that theory firsthand. The wife—correction, ex-wife—moved to Rhode Island with her girlfriend (now her fiance) almost six months ago; the kids were at college in Massachusetts; and our suburban Stamford home in Connecticut was now my private little kingdom. I got to eat whatever I wanted, be as loud as I wanted, have sex with whomever I choose. I could walk around naked—okay, yeah, I was doing that before too, but now there was no one nagging me about it.

(“Put some clothes on, Jeff, for God’s sake!” I could still hear my ex’s voice in my head. “The boys are around, they could see you!” Yeah, like their heads would explode if they saw their dad’s dong, for crying out loud. They had them too, almost the exact replicas of mine. But no, as long as she was around, the underwear had to stay on too. I thought maybe she was bothered by my size; I knew my dick was extra large and it made sex uncomfortable for her. Didn’t realize at the time that she was just not that into cock.)

Well, I was sure making up for lost time now: I slept naked, and in the morning when I woke up hard and throbbing, I went naked to the bathroom, beat my meat in the shower, then put on some comfy T-shirt and stayed bottomless for the rest of the day. The summer was in full swing, and since I mostly worked from home these days, that was my standard attire. If there was some unexpected business emergency, or a call from a client, I was still presentable, none being the wiser about me Donald Ducking it. And if I was feeling horny, I could even manage to sneak a quick jerk-off session in between—or even during—those calls. Yeah, apparently divorce has made me naughty.

Hell, I was still a virile, healthy, red-blooded man. Even though I was well into my fifties, I still felt like I was twenty years younger. I was into sports all my life, wrestling since my teenage days and all through the university, and it showed. Okay, these days I was a little soft around the middle, but I was still in better shape than any of my ‘dad bod’ buddies. And by the secret (and not-so-secret) glances their wives threw my way, I’d say they noticed. A gay employee had recently informed me that I was what’s called a ‘silver fox,’ which is just a nicer term for DILF—and everyone knows what that means.

Sometimes, though, the house felt barren with only me around. It seemed too big, hollow, silence stretching through the hallways and filling up the rooms like an invisible cobweb. My newfound solitude was still too fresh to be gloomy or oppresive, but I wondered how long it would take until freedom turns into loneliness.

* * *

That July morning I woke up too early—my bladder was not getting with the program and definitely felt my age, forcing me to get up during the night and pay a visit to the loo. After I took a leak, I didn’t feel sleepy anymore, so I put on a pair of flip-flops and went outside on my front porch to have a smoke. The dawn was breaking, washing away the darkness of the night, and the summer air was warm enough to feel pleasant on my naked skin.

I leaned on the porch railing and lit a cigarette, enjoying the feeling of being naked outside. I’m no exhibitionist or anything, but there was no one around this early, and it felt quite liberating being so… free. As I gazed into the sky, where the last stars were fading before the rising sun, my hand went to my balls, rolling them around my palm, then to my cock, which was starting to get a little fluffed. I tugged at it, feeling tingly all over, and it started to grow. Sighing deeply, I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensations. I probably shouldn’t, but… could I jerk it off right there?

There was something daring in it. A sense of liberty one rarely experiences living in the city. A feeling of unity with nature, with the universe. What’s more natural than a man spilling his seed out in the open?

That’s when I heard a voice nearby: “Good morning, Mr. Davidson.”

Eyes snapping open, I saw Daniel, the neighbor’s kid, standing in the driveway only twenty feet away. “Hello,” I said trying to sound casual and putting my hand over my semi-hard cock in a vain attempt at modesty. I forgot that he was back from college during the summer break. But what the fuck was he doing awake and outside this early?

“Um, I had to take out the trash,” he said like he had read my mind, then proceeded to dump two plastic bags into the garbage bin we shared on the driveway between our two houses. But instead of turning away and going back to his house, he then simply stood there, smiling sheepishly at me.

“Isn’t it a bit early for that?” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“The garbage truck comes every morning at five-thirty,” he said. “I forgot to do it last night, and had to set the alarm to wake me up, so Mom wouldn’t be angry.”

I nodded, smoking in silence, thinking this would be the end of our conversation, and he’ll go back inside his house. But instead of going away, he stepped closer.

“Matt and Tyler are not here?” he said as he approached.

“They’re in Providence with their mother this month,” I said. “They’ll come here in August.”

“Oh. Right. Okay.” He stopped only six feet away from me.

I noticed that his eyes were glued to my cock, still somewhat hidden behind my hand. I was used to getting stares at my junk all my life; most men are curious, especially when they see a big one like mine, and, honestly, it never bothered me. It was a compliment, really. And the attention felt good, even if it was coming from other men. Or twenty-something possibly gay guys, as the case was here.

Oh, what the hell, I thought; we’re both adults and if he’s so desperate to see it, then let him have it. So I moved my hand out of the way and let my cock be on full display, framed between two vertical rails of my portico. It was still somewhat fuller than flaccid, but nowhere near hard.

His eyes went wide, and his smile followed suit. He was standing in front of my porch like a man in a trance, my cock at his eye level. Yep, the kid was definitely gay. And I didn’t want to send the wrong message, so I put out my cigarette, scratched my beard, and said, “Well, I’m going back to bed now. See you around.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” he stuttered, now staring at my ass as I walked away. “Good ni—I mean, good… Have a good day, Mr. Davidson.”

“Jeff,” I said, closing the door behind me with a wry smile. “You’ve seen me in my birthday suit so you might as well just call me Jeff.”

And with a wink at the twink, I went inside to make myself a cup of coffee.

It was no use going back to bed, so I put on a tank top, shirtcocking like usual, and decided to start my work early. I had been working on a big construction project for the past two weeks, and I needed to confirm my design with the client before proceeding further. But by the time I finished with everything I had to do, I felt too tired even to fix myself something to eat. So I ordered a pizza and threw myself on the couch for a quick nap until my food arrived.

2. Danny

Oh my God, I can’t believe what just happened. I saw my hot-as-hell neighbor buck naked outside! Balls hanging, cock swinging, he was smoking a cigarette on his front porch without a care in the world. Wow.

I mean, I’d seen his package before—I used to spy on him as a kid, hoping to catch a glimpse of that huge cock sticking out of his shorts, and my diligence had been rewarded a few times. But never like this, never completely in the buff. And it was everything I ever dreamed of and more.

Jeff had always been a very handsome, very masculine hunk of a man. His family had lived next to mine for as long as I could remember. But the years had not lessened his hotness; age had only seemed to refine it. His hair and beard were more gray now, yet his body still looked the same. Those wide shoulders, those huge hairy pecs, those strong arms, and tree-thick legs… And that fat, uncut cock! Damn, did it look delicious. His ass too, round and firm like a rugby player’s, peppered with soft fuzz like the rest of his body. Even his slight beer belly was fucking hot, giving him a sense of ‘realness’ that all those gym bunnies never managed to possess. He was a true man’s man, big, bearded, and burly, a furry beefcake still in his prime. If I wasn’t gay before, the sight of him naked would’ve turned me for sure. In fact, he was the reason that I realized I liked men in the first place. My first crush. My first sexual fantasy.

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