TW: Mentions of internalized homophobia, religion, & cheating.
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This had to be one of the luckiest nights of your entire life. Or your ticket to Hell. Either way, you don't regret it, because this man's ass feels too good around your cock.
It perfectly adjusts itself around your length without a single complaint. It's true what he said; his body was built for this. This sort of talent isn't nurtured from birth, but a niche skill that only a desperate man would train for. Somewhere in your subconscious, you already knew this would happen. Those longing gazes weren't lacking in substance, nor were the firm handshakes he offered every time he stopped by your place with more housewarming gifts. His wife said you'd love them.
It was tradition for him to take his new male neighbors out to the bar and share a pint, spilling their guts about the lives they left behind to settle in this simple, suburban town. The rest of the fellas cared more for getting wasted than sharing their stories. You were the only one who took the bait.
"Ahh, a city man through & through," he raised his glass in your direction, "Cheers to a fresh start!" You clinked your glasses together with genuine smiles. Your new neighbor may have dressed like a stereotypical 80s father with gelled back hair, a clean-shaven face, and conservative business clothing, but damn, could he down a drink! His adam's apple bobbed vigorously as he chugged rounds of beer. The server who tended to your table collected your glasses when he finished his streak; her eyes peering at your neighbor's disheveled state.
You have a knack for catching when there is tension in the air, and your radar was going off as you sat across from your new friend. He didn't order any more rounds, but his demeanor suggested that he wanted to. His eyes shifted around for the server, and even when she was clearly in his line of vision, he would just chuckle and return facing front- gazing into your eyes.
"You ever been with a man?" was his question, but he might as well have said, "I know you killed someone," because your reaction made some of the bar patrons turn their heads.
"What the Hell you getting at?!" It wasn't like you were angry at the accusation- per say. You've been a proud bisexual since you knew being straight wasn't mandatory. But asking that question in a community you're not close to is way too risky.
"Don't sweat it," your neighbor lazily waved a hand, "I only asked because I have."
You suddenly felt like a man with a pickaxe, tempted to turn away after nearly being outed in public, but now you just heard that there's a big pile of treasure behind the final wall you need to break down. You knew something was up with this guy; it was only right to learn more! So, you calmly sank back in your chair, as your neighbor who was so obviously drunk continued his confession.
It started when he was 38. In a hotel room in Vegas. Told his wife it was for some work conference when actually he scheduled a nightly visit with some guy tagging along at a friend's bachelor party. He looked hot enough; so tall he had to bend down to assure he wouldn't hit the door frame. Muscles built from years of dedication, with a fashion sense that clashed with your neighbor's professional appearance.
The stranger locked the door and glared down at the man. "Would you like a drink?" is what your neighbor would've asked if he had not been grabbed by the throat. He was dragged to the bed, forced to sit, and in seconds he had come face-to-face with a real life, 10-inch cock. Veins pulsing down the shaft, precum already leaking from the slit. His mouth was pried open by the stranger's sausage fingers, and God willed him not to cum when the visitor's thick cock pressed past his pink lips. It slid in quickly but cautiously too, ensuring it wouldn't press too hard on your friend's uvula. The stranger closed his eyes and began to thrust, slowly at first, with a record in his throat repeating the words, "Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, fuck yeah...". Clearly, he did not come for foreplay.
The man you once deemed strait-laced had rubbed his thighs together as he sucked. So this is who I am, he told himself as he accepted the throbbing cock deeper into his throat. He willingly laid on his back so the stranger can crawl on top, and face fuck him into the mattress. His hips gyrated fiercely against your neighbor's skull, while the rest of his clothed body was constricting from the tension and sweat. The man moaned like a little bitch as the visitor halted to expel his cum down that greedy throat. Load after load dumping out from his heavy balls towards the man's stomach.
You imagined yourself in that Vegas hotel. Sitting in a chair located in the corner of the room, stroking your length to the man being gleefully assaulted.
"Do you hate me yet?" the man broke you from your fantasy. It was good though; sporting a boner in a crowded bar would've made you the town pariah. Plus talking like this, in a place littered with open ears, was not smart on the other man's end. So you leaned forward and told him, "Let's get outta here."
The fun didn't stop once that stranger came down his throat. He left for a few hours only to return with the friends he tagged along with on this trip. It was already so late at night when he came alone, that when he returned with his crew it must've been around three in the morning. They were all so huge! Each man took a turn with him. Claiming his ass, drowning that mouth with more semen. His hands couldn't be at rest when he saw all the dicks he had to service. This wasn't part of the deal at all, but he didn't mind.
"Why not?" you asked, begging your painful boner to rest just for a minute. You kept your eyes on the road, driving your neighbor's vehicle since he was far more wasted.
"Women don't know how good they have it," he replied, slouching in his seat, "They grow up being adored by so many guys just for existing. Meanwhile, us men must fight for attention. I'm glad he invited them over. I knew I was still holding back, and that was just enough to break me out of my box."
Unlike Vegas' infamous slogan, what happened that night didn't stay there. Your new friend flew home the following day to reunite to his wife, hugging her dearly before saying hi to the kids. They pestered him about school, and toys they wanted to add onto their Christmas lists. The entire day was testing him mentally, provoking him to snap as his loosened asshole pleaded for another cock to ravage it. He intended on deleting the hookup app by midnight, but he logged on just one more time and swiped right on ten people before bed.
One fucked him in a car in an empty parking lot. Another paid for a motel so they can 69 all afternoon. Your neighbor's least favorite fella was this 21-year-old named Chase. He tried not to remember names, but Chase wouldn't let him forget with his hourly text messages. His tight, virgin ass was perfect for the older man to deflower, as before then he had only bottomed. Chase assumed it was love at first fuck, and so he insisted they meet again and again until they were official. The man rambling beside you said that he let the kid down easy, texting him, "I can't. I'm married" before blocking his account.
Being an undercover whore wasn't for the faint of heart. There were times the father of two looked at his growing children and wondered if they'd be proud of the parent they had. "I'll be just like you, Daddy!" his then 8-year-old son said one day. The word "Daddy" was ruined forever as he could only smile at his boy before rushing to the bathroom and letting out a load in the shower, remembering how deliciously Chase moaned that word.
"How 'bout now? Hate me yet?" your neighbor grinned while resting his heavy head against the car window. His detailed excursions were fascinating to listen to, but you were just one man. A man that had no business knowing any of this.
His wife didn't suspect a thing; as long as he occasionally slept with her and gave great head, then that would put an end to any suspicions. But 11 years of sneaking around wore on his spirit.
His children were both in college, which left him and the missus together more often, uninterrupted- without an escape. She needed him now more than ever with her grief over the empty nest. It was then when he finally deleted all the apps and tried to be faithful to his wife. But then the political convention came.
This neighborhood, perfect as it may seem, did not carry the type of people this guy would consider friends. Like he told you on the way to the bar, you were the only one wanted to talk to him. An eligible bachelor would want to listen to his escapades. That was his belief; he wanted someone to hear his story. Somebody to be wowed at his adventures- and to justify his actions.
"There's nothing wrong with what we're doing," said a man in his hotel room, day 1 of the convention. They laid together, his head on the stranger's hairy chest. He enjoyed how the dark hairs brushed against his shaven cheek. "We're still following the word of the Lord by being upstanding men. What we do in private is nobody's business."
"Even if we're cheating on our wives?"
