Good Neighbor

GOOD NEIGHBOR, Part II by K. Nitsua. Copyright 2000 by the author.

CHAPTER FIVE: ROB AT MARSH'S HOUSE

Marsh had gone back to his house and to his little boy, promising to call when he had figured out a way we could be alone together. I stood at my front door for long minutes after he left. Part of me was shouting with joy that things had unexpectedly worked out, the way I had hoped against hope that they would. Marsh, the best-looking, most desirable, least attainable man I had ever met, not only was attainable, but seemed to return my feelings. Life was indeed good.

Too good to be true, another part of me said. I remembered how those stories my friends had told me about married men had ended--badly, for the most part. I thought briefly of Marsh's wife, and rather longer about his son, whom I had befriended. I was about to get mixed up in their lives, whether they knew it or not, in a way that had plenty of potential to hurt them. It wasn't too late to pull back, to leave this family intact, to shut Pandora's box before too much mischief was made.

I walked to the living room, sat on the couch, and stared off into space for a long while. Finally, I picked up my cell phone lying on the endtable, in which I had carefully saved Marsh's number. I started to call him to say I had changed my mind. I finished dialing--and pushed the "Off" button before the call could connect. Then I punched in another number--Stan's, held the receiver up to my ear, listened to the line ring once, and cut the connection again. What was I thinking? Was I going to tell him how well the affair with the guy I was rejecting him for was progressing? Or was I hoping he'd invite me over? I looked down at the phone I was holding and shook my head in disbelief. Even in my current state of terminal horniness over my neighbor, I was quite capable of using Stan for nothing more than stress relief.

At that moment, it rang. I jumped, startled, then looked at the caller ID display. It was Marsh. It seemed my body had already made up its mind. Without the slightest hesitation, my thumb pressed the "Talk" button, my arm brought the phone up to my ear, and my voice said, "Hello?"

"Hey guy," Marsh's deep, friendly baritone sounded in my ear. The effect was instantaneous. My breathing turned rapid and shallow, my heart thudded in my chest. A thrill coursed through my entire body and settled between my legs, hardening my cock in record time.

"Miss me?" he asked, his tone teasing, flirtatious.

"Yes, I do, terribly."

Unaware that I was telling the simple truth, he laughed softly. "Good. Listen, Rob, I'm awfully sorry, but it looks like it's a no go for tonight, anyway. I can't find anybody to take Jonah, or even to come over here and watch him on such short notice."

A lump rose in my throat. "Okay," I said. This was his way of letting me down gently, of telling me that he had changed his mind. I started to compose sane, sensible sentences in my mind, telling him that I understood and that it was all for the best, anyway.

"But--I got the mom at Jonah's preschool to take him for a few hours tomorrow. You know, the one who's going to be looking after him this week. Told her I had an emergency meeting at work. You could tell she thought I was crazy to be going in on a Sunday, but she bought it. So I'm free from eleven to two, if you want to come by. We'll have the house to ourselves, okay?"

This was my last chance to call it off. I opened my mouth not knowing what I was going to say. "Okay."

Marsh sighed with what I realized was relief. "Thank God. I was so afraid you were going to change your mind. I wish it was tomorrow right now."

"I do too, Marsh."

"Sweet man. Gotta run and give the little guy some dinner. Sleep tight tonight, okay? I'll be dreaming of you--just hope it won't be a wet dream so I have to change the sheets."

I laughed. "You're crazy."

"Crazy for you, stud. Bye now."

Slowly I put the phone down and began pacing through the house, vibrating with excitement, wanting to run, shout, jump in the air, tear my clothes off, do something insane. How was I going to get through the long dreary hours until tomorrow morning?

I tossed and turned in my bed that night, unable to fall asleep, even after masturbating fiercely to images of Marsh naked in his armchair, his running shorts down around his ankles, groaning as he filled my mouth with his salty seed. Still, I finally must have slept a little, because the next thing I knew I was opening my eyes and seeing the dim gray light of dawn filtering into the bedroom.

I glanced at my bedside clock: seven-thirty--still more than three hours left before I could be with Marsh. Rubbing the soap over my body in the shower brought anticipation rising in me again, along with my cock. I wanted badly to jack off again but resisted the urge. After coffee and a quick breakfast, not knowing what else to do, I put on my running shoes and set off for a quick jog around my neighborhood, ending up at the cinder track at the high school nearby. The morning air was still and humid, and no one else was around. Despite everything I began to enjoy myself. By the time I felt exercised out and began to walk home, it was well after nine o'clock and beginning to get hot.

I got home sweaty and tired, and took another shower. When that was done I sat in the living room and tried to do some work on my laptop. My lack of sleep the previous night was beginning to catch up with me and I found my eyes falling shut. After a while I gave in to the urge, shut off the computer and stretched out on my couch. I woke with a start some time later, seized with fear that I had overslept. Hurrying into the kitchen, I saw to my relief that it was still ten minutes before eleven.

Marsh's Blazer was not in the driveway--he must have left to drive Jonah over to his baby-sitter's house. I sat on the front steps of his house for a while, then began to feel conspicuous. I made my way around to his back yard and sat in a folding chair on the wooden deck, in a patch of shade. It was very warm by now and I began to feel drowsy again. I didn't want to fall asleep in case he came back, but despite myself my eyelids grew heavy, and my head began to nod...

I felt a hand shaking me gently. "Rob?" someone said.

I struggled out of the fog of slumber to see Marsh's face filling my vision. I grunted in mild surprise, then yawned. "Sorry," I managed. "I must have fallen asleep."

"Boy, you were out," Marsh said, smiling. "I was just about to try a splash from the garden hose. I came back late--was worried that you had given up and gone home, but you weren't home. So then I come out back and here you are, sleeping like a baby. Kind of cute. Reminded me of Jonah."

I was waking up fast now--Marshall and I were alone together. His hand was still on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. "Want to come in, neighbor?" he asked softly.

He got up and I followed him into the house. As soon as we were in the kitchen he turned and faced me. I could smell his clean scent, mostly soap with faint hints of cologne and sweat. I looked into his brown eyes, and basked in the warmth of his smile. "Welcome," he said. He raised his hand and began to run it slowly over the T-shirt I was wearing. I did the same to him, still staring into his eyes, then let my hand caress his cheek. He turned and kissed my palm, and for a instant an image of Stan making the same affectionate gesture flashed into my mind. I banished that memory and raised my other hand, drawing his face to me as my mouth opened. Our lips met an instant later, our arms encircled each other, and our passion poured out in a long, hard and sweet, sweet kiss.

We finally broke apart and Marsh laid his head on my shoulder as I continued to hold him, not quite able to believe yet that this was really happening. At last he raised his head and looked at me.

"Do you feel the way I do right now?" Staring into his eyes, wild and dark, I nodded.

Without another word Marsh took my hand and started to lead me through the house. I saw the width of his shoulders filling out the thin cotton shirt, the strength of his back and legs, the firmness of his butt in his jeans. At that moment I would have followed him to the ends of the earth.

He took me to the guest bedroom in which I had changed the day before and closed the door behind us. He kissed me again with an irresistible frankness. I fumbled with the front of his jeans but he stopped me. "Let me undress you first," he said. He took my t-shirt at the waist with both hands and slowly pulled it out from my shorts. As he raised it, exposing my stomach, he bent and began to kiss the bare flesh that emerged, sending shivers through me. He reached my nipples and took one in his mouth, flicking his tongue slowly, delicately over it until I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, my mouth opening in a soft moan of pleasure. Marsh momentarily ceased his labors to pull my t-shirt up over my head. Then, I felt his mouth on my body again, softly kissing my throat, neck, chest and nipples until I lost track of how many sweet touches he had given me.

He gently pushed me backward onto the bed. I stared at the ceiling as I felt my shoes and shorts being drawn off, and my erection freed from its confines. I felt moisture on my belly and knew that my dick must be leaking precum. I hoped he would touch it with his hand, or perhaps his mouth, but instead he broke contact. I looked up to see him standing, looking down at me, smiling.

"You've got a fine body on you," he said. He bent forward, extended one of his sinewy, finely shaped hands and began to stroke my chest again. I shivered in pleasure, then abruptly giggled as he passed over a certain spot on my rib cage. Marsh stopped, looking quizzical.

"Sorry," I explained. "Ticklish."

A wicked glint appeared in his eye. "Really? Right--here?" he asked as his hand grabbed the sensitive spot. My body jackknifed as a scream of laughter burst from me. This incited him to greater efforts, until we were rolling and wrestling on the bed, my high-pitched hysteria counterpointed by Marsh's growls of mock menace, as he continued to pounce on my vulnerable spots. At last we stopped, breathless with laughter.

"You're more fun to play with than Jonah," Marsh said.

"What next?" I demanded in mock annoyance. "Going to pick me up and toss me in the air?"

"Well, no, I don't think I can do that."

"So are we done? Am I supposed to go home now?" I teased.

Marsh smiled and squeezed my temporarily softened dick. "No way," he said, as he stood and began to strip. In a short time he stood naked, looking down at me again. His cock jutted proudly out in front of him. I gulped at the sight, and reached up with my arms.

"Play with me again, Dad."

He joined me on the bed. I don't remember the next hour or so in too much detail--time passed in an ecstatic blur, as our bodies tumbled on the bed, clutching each other as if never to let go. I remember pressing my fingers into his back, marveling at the steely hardness of each muscle.

As if reading my mind, Marsh whispered to me, "It feels so good to hold a man."

He was so tender that first time--his big hands running down my back, his fingers exploring the cleft between my cheeks, and most of all, his lips and tongue, caressing places I didn't know could feel such sensations. His gentle, coaxing way of making love was so different from Stan's blunt sensuality, and I couldn't get enough of it. I looked into the deep pools of his eyes over and over again, each time entreating him to give me another gift with his mouth. He obliged every time, until I thought I would explode with the delight of it all.

Sweet sadist that he was, though, Marsh didn't let me explode until much, much later. Lying on my back with my legs spread, calves resting on his shoulders, impaled on his stabbing cock, I was jacking myself off furiously, only to have him grab my hands and hold them firmly down, shaking his head, smiling with a wicked glint in his eye as I pleaded with him to let me cum. His thrusts slowed, then stopped as he let the excitement which had almost carried us over the brink dissipate.

"Please," I begged. I squirmed and writhed, my sphincter muscles clenching convulsively around his hard pole of flesh. The waves of sensation created were not enough to get me to where I desperately wanted to go.

"In a minute," he said softly. "In a minute," then grabbed my aching, rock-hard cock and gave it one hard, twisting stroke. I gasped and reached for it myself, only to have him pin both my hands to the bed again. My struggles were useless against the strength of his grip. He chuckled as I bucked and thrashed, pressing forward so I couldn't dislodge him from my insides.

"Mmm, feels good."

Suddenly he thrust hard into me, so that his pubic bone slammed against my butt. I cried out at the impact, shocked into ceasing my struggles. He began to stir into action again, moving at first slowly, then gradually increasing his pace until he was driving into me like a machine. He continued to hold my hands down, not letting me touch myself, until I was frantic with need, then finally released me as he reached maximum speed. My hand went to my cock and with a few strokes I sent myself over the edge, crying out incoherently as hot white jets flew out of my cock and sprayed over my chest and stomach. I realized we were shouting in unison, and knew he must be dumping his own load into my ass.

Gradually our cries subsided to harsh gasps for air, his hips began to slow their thrusts, and we collapsed into each other's arms on the bed. I held him close, listening to his breathing, aware of his chest still rising and falling rapidly, smelling sweat and cologne mingled with the aroma of my cum.

Marsh raised his head and smiled into my eyes. "Phew. I feel like I just ran a half-marathon."

"You probably did, the way you were going at it," I replied.

He shook his head ruefully. "I was mean to hold you back like that, but I didn't want it to end. Damn, it feels good fucking you. So hot and tight."

"Ever fucked a guy before?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Yeah, but it happened so fast I barely knew what was going on."

"I'd love to hear about it."

He looked at me. "Really? Tell you what, let's get cleaned up, and then I'll tell you the story of Marshall."

We took a hot shower in the guest bathroom, leisurely soaping each other. My lust for him had been momentarily satisfied, but it still gave me a thrill to run my hands over Marsh's sculpted chest and stomach muscles, to watch the soapy water flow down his groin and over the dangling rope of his cock, impressive even when soft. Occasionally Marsh would catch my eye and grin companionably. He gently turned me around and began to wash my back, and I felt pure contentment well up in me. At that moment I almost forgot that we were together through sheer luck, and that there was no guarantee of this ever happening again.

We rinsed, got out and dried each other off, then went back into the bedroom and stretched out on our sides on the bed. Marsh leaned forward and kissed me, then sighed.

"I could stay right here the whole week," he said.

I felt the same, but nevertheless, that little warning voice began to come to life again, trying to dampen the affection growing in me. It felt compelled to remind Marsh of reality.

"So Audrey's away all week?"

"Yeah. She called last night. She's flying back on Saturday. The doctors think her father's going to pull through this time, but she wants to stay around until he's totally out of danger."

He shifted his body forward and took me in his arms. "Let's not think about her right now."

Conceding that he was right, I changed the subject. "So you were going to tell me about you and other guys."

"Oh, yeah." A coy look appeared on his face. "Why so interested?"

I shrugged. "I'm always interested in how people have gotten to where they are. Let's face it, no one would peg you for anything other than a red-blooded, straight, family-type guy. I sure thought that's what you were, even though I was hoping otherwise."

"So you had a crush on me. How sweet."

"Well, I'm sure you're used to that sort of thing," I said, a bit huffily.

Marsh said, seriously, "Rob, I've never thought of myself as handsome. No, really," he said as I started to protest. "I was a scrawny teenager with acne and a big nose. I started working out to try and get over feeling like a total geek. I'm still surprised when anyone thinks I'm cute."

He turned on his back, looking up at the ceiling. "I was pretty much telling you the truth yesterday. I've only been with other men a couple of times, and each time it just kind of happened. The first time was with a guy at work, a couple of years after Audrey and I got married. He was married too. We were placed on the same assignment, sent to some city--Seattle, I think it was--to present the project. We had a double room at a downtown hotel there. Let me tell you, this guy--Brian--was a stud. Blond, built, the works. I wasn't admitting that I felt anything for other men, even to myself. But he must have seen me looking at him and figured me out before I did.

"It was late one night. I was such a wimp--I was wearing pajamas to bed. Brian would just strip down to his jockeys every night and lounge around. I was going crazy trying not to stare at him. We're sitting in the room together, drinking Scotch, talking business, and all of a sudden I notice he's stroking himself through his underwear. He catches my eye and just grins. God, I'm so horny,' he says. It's just murder being away from the wife for so long. I can tell you feel the same way, guy.'

"What do you mean?' I say. Looks like you're pretty stiff yourself, pal,' he says. I look down and sure enough, I have an enormous boner tenting out my pajama bottoms. We ought to do something about this,' Brian says, and comes toward me. I must have tried to push my chair back or something, cause he just cracked up. Whatcha fraid of, Marsh?' he asks. I remember saying something stupid like, Isn't it wrong?' and then he bends down, reaches inside my fly and starts to stroke my dick. Does this feel wrong?' he asks."

Marsh began to pull on his own cock, almost unconsciously, as he continued to tell the story. "Well, of course, it felt great. I still remember looking up at him, dressed in those white Jockeys with an enormous bulge in front. He had a great-looking hairy chest. I reached out and ran my hand over it, then got down to his briefs. He just smiled again and said, `Go for it, guy.' So I did.

"We didn't do much, actually. Just ended up on the bed naked, kissing and jacking each other off until we shot our loads all over ourselves and the bed. It was a great week, though. When we got back we saw each other a couple more times, but with our families and work and all, it got too complicated."

"And the second time?"

Marsh grinned, but a little shamefacedly. "I've never told anyone these stories before. Feels weird. Anyway, the second time was a couple of years ago. Sometimes we have interns at the company--college students learning the ropes, hoping to break into the business after graduation. They kind of follow us around, do some of the work if they're good, that kind of thing. I think it's an actual class for them--at any rate, this particular one stayed around a good ten weeks or so, for fall quarter, I think he said.

"Well, by this time I knew a little bit more about--gays, and I could tell Joel was gay. He was a cute little guy with light brown hair and a little mustache, and he worked out--had muscles out to here. Wore a little too much cologne. Very friendly. Good worker.

"Toward the end of Joel's stint with the company there was a rush of business and all of us were having to spend a lot of evenings working. One night a bunch of us were pulling in overtime. We ordered pizzas and beer--it was kind of fun, actually. Gradually everyone went home until Joel and I were the only ones left. We were just trying to finish up one last spreadsheet or something. I remember he and I were looking at the same computer terminal and he was leaning over me. I thought he was standing awfully close, but somehow it felt kind of--nice. He had one hand resting on my shoulder, I remember that, just real casual. All of a sudden I felt his fingers moving. I didn't dare look him in the eye, but reached my hand behind me real slowly and got a hold of his thigh, and started feeling it. He didn't pull away.

"Then he said, `That beer's running through me. Got to take a leak.' I heard him walk toward the door to the hallway and open it, but then I didn't hear it shut or his footsteps going toward the men's room. I looked up to see what was going on. He was still standing, holding the door open, looking toward me and his hand was on his crotch, cupping his basket. I just sat there, looking at him, hard as a rock. Then he shut the door. I waited a minute, got up and followed him.

"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 so that his butt was exposed, 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. Joel 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 that time with Joel, 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 and opened it.

"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. Marsh said mischievously as he got in the driver's side, "It's only for a little while. He deserves the front seat for being so good at the baby-sitter's, don't you think?"

"You forget, I've had him in my lap already," I observed.

"That's right. Want to stay and have Sunday supper with us? 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 yet that day, 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 just slightly, his eyes aglow. "Promise."

CHAPTER 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 beard 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, except that our study sessions weren't grim and dour, but exhilarating, filled with laughter, gasps of surprise and groans and shouts of sexual release.

One of those afternoons--I forget which--we were in my house that day, and Marsh had gotten me on my back. He 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. I did so as best I could as 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 comforter. I lay there, my chest still heaving. I opened my eyes to find Marsh standing above me with his hands on his hips, his condom-covered cock still hard, looking down at me with a satisfied smile.

"Like that?" he asked, puffing from his exertions.

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

Marsh was pulling at the rubber covering his own organ. He succeeded in removing it, dropped it on the floor and began to masturbate. He mounted the bed and straddled my body, moving forward until 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. Marsh's 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.

Although I didn't tell Marsh the whole story of Stan and what had happened while the house was being built--cad that I am, I barely thought of Stan at all that whole week--we did try the mirror trick another afternoon. 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 condom-covered shaft reaming my hole, and our balls swaying in unison as he fucked, 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 brought himself off 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.

CHAPTER SEVEN: EXITS AND ENTRANCES

Looking back, there's only myself to blame for how things turned out. I knew in my heart that those few days with Marsh were all I was going to get, but I couldn't help hoping for more. I have to give him credit--he never promised me anything he wasn't going to deliver. On the other hand, he was so open, so uninhibited in his passion, so willing to share his life and his son with me, how could it all end so soon?

But it did, of course. If only it hadn't ended so badly.

Friday we were on Marsh's living room couch as the late evening light slowly faded. I was seated, Marsh's head in my lap. We had stuck to our no-sex rule while Jonah was upstairs all week. The other days it had been hard, but tonight, abstaining was easy. Gloom hung over us both, as heavy as the still air of the house.

Marsh, making an effort, broke the silence. "Thanks for reading him his story."

I nodded. For our final night together I had been accorded the honor of helping put the little boy to bed.

We fell silent again, then I said, "When is Audrey getting in tomorrow?"

"Her plane comes in about three. I'll drive out there with Jonah to get her, I guess."

"Marsh, what are you going to say to her?"

He looked away, as if trying to evade my question. "About what?"

My jaw locked in anger, though I tried to control it. I knew I should have seen this coming. Many times I had sat at the bar and listened to a like tale of woe coming from one of my friends, smugly thinking I'd never let myself get into a situation like that. But I had, with hardly a struggle.

Marsh must have sensed what lay behind my silence. He lifted himself off my lap and swung his body around until he was sitting apart from me, looking downward. "Look, what do you want me to say?"

"So, your wife comes back and I'm supposed to be just your good neighbor again, is that it, Marsh?" I sounded like a bad soap opera. I hated myself, but couldn't stop.

Marsh spread his hands in appeal. "Rob, I have a family, a job, a house, a mortgage. It's not that simple. I can't just throw it all away."

"Jesus, I am such an idiot," I said, my voice rising. "A fucking idiot."

"Shh! You'll wake Jonah. Please, Rob," Marsh said desperately, and despite everything, the look on his face succeeded in diffusing my anger, for the moment.

"You never were going to tell her, were you?" I asked, dully, after another minute.

Marsh shook his head slowly, looking down again.

"I should have known."

He raised his head and met my gaze, his expression willing me to understand. "Rob, I've never met anyone like you. This week--has been fantastic. You've got to believe me, I thought about it, leaving Audrey, I mean. But--

His voice dropped and trembled slightly. "I'm a coward. I couldn't help thinking about Jonah. Audrey, she'd survive, even if she hated me for the rest of her life. But what about him?"

The damndest thing was, I understood. I'd held that little boy in my lap, played with him at the pool, helped him eat his Jello cubes, read him a story. If I were Jonah's father, could I face the prospect of seeing him rarely, or maybe not at all? Of wondering and waiting to see how his mother would turn him against me?

I sighed heavily, feeling like crying, but the tears wouldn't come. Instead, I just sat there, depression filling my chest like a lump of lead.

"Shit," I said. How intelligent, how eloquent.

Marsh gripped my shoulder, the words flowing rapidly out of him. "Maybe there's a way we could keep seeing each other, I don't know exactly how. Maybe at the office, or something."

I shook my head, repelled at the thought. "I don't think so." Another beat, then I stood. "Well, it was nice while it lasted. Bye, Marsh." Funny, Stan had said almost the same thing to me, ages ago, it seemed.

I started to head for the door. "Rob," Marsh said, stopping me for the last time. I turned. He was sitting there, as handsome as ever. For the first time his physical beauty didn't take my breath away.

"You--you're not going to say anything to Audrey, are you?"

If he had said anything kind, or remorseful, I might have started to cry. As it was, I snorted with contempt. "Fuck off," I said, and walked out the door.

I didn't think Marsh was going to come running after me this time, and sure enough, he didn't. I sat in the kitchen of my silent and empty house, and downed two or three Scotches, from a bottle that I hadn't opened until now. I finally went to bed, and woke with a pounding headache.

I'd broken up with lovers before, of course. I hadn't ever broken up with one who happened to be my next-door neighbor, though. Nor had I ever terminated a relationship with someone who had a kid who liked me. So I wasn't ready for some painful little incidents in the next couple of weeks after Marsh's wife came home.

I got a phone call from Audrey a few days later, asking me out to dinner with the family. She was anxious to follow through on the invitation she had extended before she left. There was no way to refuse without seeming rude, and obviously Marsh couldn't nix the plan without arousing her curiosity. So it was that the four of us, Marsh, Audrey, Jonah and me, went out to a convivial, noisy hamburger joint downtown the next week. Only Jonah seemed unaffectedly glad to see me. Marsh hardly spoke a word or looked me in the eye the entire time, and Audrey chattered nervously about her father's health and had one too many margaritas to drink. It was one of the most uncomfortable evenings of my life.

Mercifully, it was easier than I thought it would be to avoid seeing Marsh otherwise. I simply started leaving for work earlier and coming home a bit before he did. Of course it was impossible to avoid him, or his family, altogether, but I would simply wave or say a brief "hi" before disappearing into my house. Once I thought I saw a puzzled look on Audrey's face as I walked away from her and her son, who still obviously looked up to me-why was I being so unfriendly? Let her husband explain it, I thought. Once I ran into Marsh and Audrey together. I saw the anxiety in his eyes, and remembered a joke I heard once about "the definition of being gay: somewhere there's a married man who's terrified of you." Still, his discomfiture was hollow satisfaction.

I found myself getting irrationally upset about the state of my yard and grounds. I no longer felt like doing the work myself, but lacked the energy to go about looking for someone to do it. Things began to look overgrown and seedy and this lowered my spirits still further.

I buried myself in the business, and managed not to think too much about Marsh during the day. At night was another matter. I would lie awake, alone in my bed, staring at the ceiling as images of our lovemaking flashed through my mind, so real I could almost feel my arms around him again. The longing was a physical pain. I'd had him for so short a time--why couldn't I forget him as quickly?

The summer dragged slowly on, hot and joyless now. One night, lying sleepless despite what had become my usual routine of two or three stiff drinks before turning in, I couldn't stand tossing and turning any longer. I got up, padded downstairs and quietly opened the back door, stepping out onto the back steps dressed only in my boxers. It was very warm outside but still it felt better than being in the house, which too often these days was like a prison. I figured I'd stand here for a few minutes until the mosquitoes got too bad.

There were plenty of crickets and the noise they made was surprisingly loud. Dim light filtered in from the safety lamp shining on the driveway of the house behind mine, and from the half moon above, but most of the yard was shadowed in blackness. Suddenly I stiffened. I stood absolutely still, hardly breathing, listening alertly. There it was again--a soft, wordless sigh from an unmistakably female voice. It was coming from the next yard--Marsh's yard.

My feet were bare and made no sound as I quietly walked diagonally across the grass until I could see the back deck of the Atkins residence. I crouched down in case I could be seen by anyone there--there was enough light so that an alert eye could have detected my movements.

I needn't have worried about being noticed, though--the two people on the deck were totally engrossed in what they were doing. Audrey was standing with her back against the wall of the house, behind her husband, so I couldn't see her very well. Marsh was facing her, crouching slightly, his broad shoulders and back unmistakable in a dark muscle shirt. His bare butt was clearly visible from where I stood--whatever he had been wearing on his lower body was in a heap around his ankles. As I watched, the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his dimpled cheeks told me all I needed to know.

Another moan from Audrey wafted through the night air to my ears. I realized that my hands were balled up into fists and I was gritting my teeth so hard they could crack. Pure jealous rage shot through me like a blue flame. I wanted to turn and run into the house, hide under the covers of my bed, stuff my fingers into my ears. But I couldn't move, nor could I take my eyes off them.

Despite the turmoil that seethed in me, I must not have made any sound, for Marsh and Audrey continued their lovemaking with increasing frenzy. Her moans increased in frequency and volume. I saw her arms encircle his neck, and her feet rise off the ground as her slender, shapely legs wrapped themselves around his body. He began to thrust faster and I heard his voice join hers. Thank God I was too far away to understand words--the unmistakable, guttural quality of the sounds he was making was torture enough.

The sounds reached a crescendo of intensity, then began to diminish. Audrey's feet descended to the floor of the deck again, and Marsh's body became still. They turned to one side, embracing, their lips touching. I heard, or perhaps imagined, the distant clicking of wet kisses. I could stand no more. As quietly as I could, I backed away and re-entered my house, letting the door slam, no longer caring if they heard.

Passing through the kitchen, I saw the remnants of that evening's nightcap on the table--the half-filled bottle of Campari, the empty tumbler. I heard sobbing breaths cut through the silence of the house and realized they were coming from me. I sat down and got the bottle open with trembling hands. The neck of the bottle clinked violently against the rim of the glass as I poured myself another drink. I took a big gulp of the bitter stuff, neat, and choked on it. Coughing and sputtering, my windpipe burning, I shouted "Damn it!" and threw the glass at the wall. Glass shards flew and aromatic liquid went spraying over the counter top and linoleum. I put my head down on the table. In all the time since I had walked out of Marsh's house that Friday night I hadn't shed a tear, but I began to cry now, heavy, broken sobs.

I could have stood anything but the sight that I saw, for I now knew exactly what it was to be loved by Marsh Atkins, to be held naked and defenseless in his arms, to be possessed by his body and cock. The first time I had seen husband and wife together in their bedroom I had longed for what I thought could never be. Now, seeing them happily reunited, I grieved for what would never be again.

CHAPTER EIGHT: DINNER WITH STAN

He was noticeably different on the phone this time. "Hey--how are you doing," he asked, his tone guarded, neutral. I heard the TV going somewhere nearby, a sitcom perhaps, as there were frequent bursts of laughter.

"How are you, Stan?" I said, feeling pretty tongue-tied myself. If he had hung up when he heard my voice, I thought, he would have been entitled.

"Okay. So--what's up?" he asked flatly. No invitation, of course.

I decided to go for broke. "I'd like to take you out to dinner."

He snorted then, taken by surprise. "Dinner? Why?"

Just then I heard another burst of laughter. This time a single male voice, much closer, joined in. Stan must have company.

"Oh God, this is a bad time, isn't it," I said, really abashed.

"Naw, that's just my buddy Gary in from Florida. He's crashing on my couch for a few days. You really want to buy me dinner?"

"Sure I do."

"Just a sec, Gary's yakking at me." There were vague noises at the other end of the line, then Stan's voice came on again, amused, less guarded. "Gary says never turn down a free meal. He says I'm lucky my yuppie boyfriend wants to give me dinner."

I smiled to myself. "So are we on?"

"Only if you'll take me to Castle Hill," which was a casual but topnotch, pricey downtown establishment.

"Done."

"Wow, that was easy. When?"

On the appointed evening I got to the restaurant first, ordered a glass of wine and waited. Just as I began to worry that he was going to stand me up, Stan walked in. He was wearing dark blue slacks, a lighter blue, short-sleeved shirt and a necktie. I had never seen him before in good clothes. He saw me, waved tentatively and made his way across the dining room.

"Thanks for coming," I said as he sat down.

"Thank you for buying me dinner," he said with exaggerated emphasis. I could see he was curious about why I'd invited him, but he wasn't about to ask.

After ordering a beer from the waiter--no wine for Stan--he said, without preamble, "So, I guess the married guy didn't work out?"

I shook my head. "No, he didn't."

"Don't be too hard on him, Rob," he said, to my surprise. "They have a lot on their minds. Married guys, I mean."

"And how would you know?"

"I was married." I was taken aback, and it must have showed on my face, because Stan grinned in the old way. "Heck, why not? Most guys get married, Rob."

"I guess so. How long?"

"Six years."

"How come you never told me before?"

"You never asked. Rob, when you've been over at my place, you haven't wanted to talk much."

The waiter arrived to take our order at that moment, and saved me from having to come up with an answer to that one. Stan sensed his advantage, though, and started in on me again after he left.

"So why the invite, Rob?"

Of course we both knew why we were there, but I wasn't about to let him win that easily. I had an ace up my sleeve, though. "Know anything about landscaping? Sprinkler systems?"

Stan blinked. "Huh?" I smiled blandly.

"I put in these flowerbeds earlier this summer and now I've gotten lazy. I have to figure out a way to keep them from dying. I need professional help. That's why I called, Stan--I figured you might know some good people."

Stan looked disappointed. I could barely hide my glee. "Well," he said slowly, "I could come over and take a look."

"Why? I didn't know you did sprinklers," I said, acting skeptical. Actually, of course, I was elated.

He was starting to get a bit huffy. "Well, no, I don't exactly. But I know enough so I can tell you what you really need, so you won't get taken for a ride."

"Okay. How about Saturday morning?"

"Fine." The meal came a few minutes later, and Stan ate his food with gusto--it was a good restaurant. A few times during the rest of that evening I caught him eyeing me with a puzzled look, wondering why I had gone to all this trouble to ask him to look at my yard. He didn't know yet that this was just the first part of my little scheme.

Promptly at ten o'clock on Saturday morning I heard the doorbell ring. Carefully I walked over to answer it. I grasped the doorknob, turned it, and pulled the door slowly open, making sure I stayed behind it, invisible from the outside.

"Rob, you there? What's going on? Where--" Stan's voice asked as he stepped into the hall. His head turned toward me and he stopped in mid-sentence. A smile spread across his face and he shook his head. "I might have known."

I was buck naked, of course. I leaned back against the wall in what I hoped was a seductive pose. To my embarrassment I realized I was trembling, a little bit from excitement, but mostly from fear that Stan would simply laugh in my face and walk out again.

There was a moment of suspense, then he extended one of his big hands and pushed the front door shut with a bang. He stepped forward and put his arms around me, but as I prepared to receive what I thought was going to be an affectionate hug, his grip tightened, he crouched down and suddenly my feet were in the air as he hoisted me bodily onto one broad shoulder. "Stan, what the hell are you doing?" I shouted, and his laugh rang out.

"Upstairs, yuppie scum," he said, giving my butt a vigorous swat.

He didn't make it to the bedroom with me, but he did manage to get all the way up the stairs. At the top he put me down, puffing from his exertions. "I'm not that young any more," he said, before I kissed him.

Later, I turned to him as we both lay on my bed. My ass was pleasantly sore from the attentions Stan had paid to it with his mouth and cock.

"Why don't we go out and look at the yard, as long as you're here."

Stan laughed. "How long are you going to keep this up?"

"I wasn't kidding," I protested. "I really do need help with the grounds."

"Why do you keep saying that, Rob?" he said, suddenly serious. "Fuck, you could have just told me to get my ass over here the night you called."

"And you'd have come?"

Stan clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "You are so full of shit, you know that? Haven't I come panting every time, from the first time you saw me through your kitchen window?"

I dropped my eyes, ashamed. "I wouldn't have been surprised if you hadn't, this time."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm a glutton for punishment." I looked up at him. He was still trying to look reproachful, but the twinkle in his eyes was definitely there.

"So--speaking of punishment, my company's having a Fourth of July picnic out at the club. Want to go with me?"

Stan stared, then threw his head back and guffawed. "Guy, you're something else. You mean I have to wear my good clothes again?"

I shook my head. "You look like a gas station attendant in those things. Wear your jeans and boots. Believe me, you'll be a hit. C'mon, Stan, say you will."

Stan was grinning broadly. His eyes had fully regained the challenging sparkle I knew so well, and had missed so much. "Let me think about it while you fuck my butt."

"Whatever you say," I laughed as I pulled him to me.

EPILOGUE

It took me a while to persuade Stan to move in with me, but he finally did. He eventually installed the sprinkler system himself, and the yard always looks great now. Adjusting to my office social life turned out to be a snap--he quickly figured out that a lot of the people who worked for me hadn't gone to college either, and even the ones who had didn't like to do their own landscaping. He's worked up quite a nice business--the fact that he looks like a cross between Tom Selleck and the guy on the Brawny paper towel rolls doesn't hurt, of course.

I saw less and less of the Atkinses as time went on. Occasionally I still ran into Audrey at the coffee shop or supermarket. She was still pleasant but noticeably less friendly than she used to be. I always wondered how much, if anything, she knew or figured out about what happened while she was away that week visiting her father. One day I saw her going into the local post office with a dark-haired, gravely handsome boy. I realized with a start that it was Jonah, now about eight or nine years old. After marveling how much he was growing up to look like his dad, sadness pierced through me. The lively toddler whom I had held in my lap and comforted, whose hand I had held while we window-shopped at the mall, was gone forever.

Soon after that a "For Sale" sign appeared in the yard of the house next door. I thought about going over and saying good-bye but decided against it. The thing with Marsh was ancient history. I wasn't sure he would even want to see me--I hadn't had any real contact with him in a long time, and I was sure that suited him just fine. It was summer again and Stan and I were about to go on vacation. When we came back, the house was empty and deserted--the occupants had moved while were gone.

So Marsh Atkins had made his final exit from the stage of my life. As it turned out, it wasn't quite so simple--life is never that neat.

It was sometime that fall that I booted up my home computer one evening in my upstairs office to check my e-mail before turning in. Stan was in the shower, I remember hearing the water going.

Of course there was a whole lot of junk and spam and I got to work deleting it. One subject heading caught my eye, though: "Blast from the Past" it said--not exactly the kind of heading you would usually see on a smut or sales promotional. I saw there was an attached file, and immediately I thought: virus. But there hadn't been any warnings lately, and I was pretty careful about keeping track of those things.

Deciding to risk it, I opened the e-mail and began to read.

Dear Rob,

I hope you haven't figured out who this is and deleted it already. If you figure it out now, don't delete it, please? It's Marshall, your former next-door neighbor. I was doing some work tonight--okay, I was surfing the Net and found your company page. So how are you doing? I guess I'm sorry I never got to say goodbye. I don't know if you talked to Audrey either before we left, but FYI we're divorced now. I'm living out in Cal. Got a good position here with the Silicon Valley branch of my company. We sold the house as part of the settlement. She got custody of Jonah :-(, but she's being good about letting me see him. Actually, Rob, she's being really good considering everything. You see, I'm living out here with another guy...

Okay, so are you finished saying I told you so? I don't know exactly why I'm telling you this. Maybe you won't think I'm such a bastard now, or maybe you still will. After all, this doesn't change the fact that I treated you like shit. Rafe is great, but I miss Jonah all the time. Say hey to him for me if you see him, will you? He's still living in town with his mom.

Guess I've rambled on enough. Hope you're doing okay.

Marsh

P.S. The attached file is a pic of me and Rafe, my partner. Bet you thought it was a virus .

I opened it and looked at Marsh and another man smiling at the camera, squinting a bit from the sun on their faces, their hair windswept. Behind them was an expanse of blue water, and what I recognized as the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance.

I became aware of Stan behind me, a towel around his waist. He pressed his bare stomach, warm and fragrant with soap, against the back of my head.

"Our former neighbor," I explained. "He's divorced and living in California with a guy."

"Saw the light, eh?" Stan said, patting my shoulder. I took his hand.

"Guess so."

"You sorry he didn't see it sooner?"

I looked up at him. "Maybe a little. On the other hand, if we play our cards right, we might have a place to stay in the Bay area."

Stan snorted. "Too damn civilized for this puppy. You going to stare at that thing all night?"

I shook my head. "Be there in a minute." After he left, I gazed at the screen and the picture of the two men, apparently happy, for a while longer. Then I closed the file, shut the computer down and went to join him.

END