A Neighbor in Need

There was a knock on my door one Saturday afternoon. When I answered, I was greeted by a guy in his sixties that I had seen moving into the opposite apartment earlier this week.

"Sorry to bother," he said. "I just moved in and wonder if you could give me a hand real quick?"

"Is there a piano involved?"

"Heavens no. Just two pictures that are too big for me to hang by myself. Just big. They weigh practically nothing."

"Sure." I grabbed my keys from my bowl. "I'm Marc."

"Hello, Marc. I'm Tim. I promise, it won't take but a minute."

I got a gander of him as he led the way to his door. He was about my age and somewhat small, maybe five-nine. While the years had robbed me of my hair, they had turned his silver. It was cut neatly but casually long. He was slightly plump but it looked to be time-softened flesh rather than lard. A good-looking guy with only a trace of a prance in his step. I, on the other hand, have become a bit of a gym rat as the years grew long and still play hoops on Wednesdays on an Over-50 league.

The paintings were 3 or 4 feet wide, definitely a two man job. Within minutes we were done. His walls were festooned with art. I took a moment to admire it. Monet, Renoir, Van Gogh, and others I didn't recognize. "I like your taste. Gotta love the impressionists."

"I know. I love all schools of art but for home decor it's the Impressionists for me. I mean, I'd just go cross-eyed looking at Picasso all day."

That made me laugh. He was standing close and, as he turned to point to a particular picture, his hand grazed across my cock. "Excuse me. I didn't mean ..." He shrugged with an innocent smile but his voice was husky and low and assumed a suggestive lisp. "I just wonder how you feel about this one. It's a Mary Cassatt."

With fingertips on my arm, he led me across the room. He wound up standing even closer, almost looking over my shoulder, his body near enough to exert a gravitational pull without actually touching.

"I like Cassatt but, I don't know, it just seems that by using a pastel pallete she surrendered vivid Impressionism to the Europeans. Still, her works really capture the lives of women during her age."

"That's very true. And very well put. Care to sit for a minute?" As he guided me to the sofa, Tim somehow managed to brush across my cock again. Again, there was slightly lusty apology. "I'm so sorry. I'm just clumsy today."

I took a discrete step away from him and made my way to the couch.

"Something to drink? I have sparkling water?"

"Sounds good." The cushions were plush as I settled back. A pair of oaks shaded his living room windows. "Nice view, too."

Tim placed our drinks on coasters and sat on the sofa's edge turned sideways so he was facing me. Or trapping me with his body language. "I'm going to love living here." He was so close his hand naturally fell upon my knee. That hand made several encouraging pats. "But I want to hear about you."

I have no idea how Tim behaves in mixed company, but when he is alone with an attractive man I bet every interaction is going to arrive at the subject of cocks. I pondered what to do.

"Nothing much to report. Semi-retired. Living the good life." Tim's polite smile seemed painted on but the depth of his gaze told me he wanted intimate details, not my resume. His fingertips were not still and his tongue made a moist survey of his lips. I decided to go for it. "Do you play golf?"

The question surprised him. "Maybe twice. I'm not very good at sports."

"Well, maybe you'll understand the metaphor." My gaze intensified and I let the heat rise between us. "I'm like a fairway that's mostly straight but has a dogleg toward the gay."

His smile became wry, "Really?"

I let our eyes linger and my smile matched his with a wicked twist. I stretched my arm across the cushions. "Would you like to sit closer?"

He sank into the crook of my arm causing his hand to innocently venture higher up my thigh. I say innocently because it had not yet committed the assault we both knew was coming. Instead he smiled very sweetly and teased, "Mostly straight?"

"But with a dogleg."

I gently hooked his chin and lifted his lips to mine. We began with teasing, feint kisses. He moaned a long, sensuous "Ohhhhh." I imagined he had slightly puffy, plump nipples that yearned to be tweeked. My hand kneaded his chest and squeezed them through his shirt. "Ohhhh," he quivered. His hand lost its innocence as it sought my cock, then discovered it, then played with it and explored its length. We both moaned "Ohhhh."

He had my cock out with a few deft moves. His lips parted and my tongue plunged in. His fingertips were taunting and light, and my cock grew under his ministrations. Tim couldn't sit still. He writhed and undulated, he pitched and craned against me like a serpent winnowing lasciviously, offering forbidden fruit. He was already enthralled with lust.

He broke our kiss to admire my manhood. It was a solid seven inches of firm, hot man meat with a large pillowy crown. His hand played adoringly up and down the shaft.

"You have lovely, delicate fingertips," I said.

There was hunger in his eyes as he looked up. His hot breath was slightly heaving. "And my lips are plump and moist."

With that he returned his gaze to my cock. His breathing became heavier as his tongue wet his lips and he lowered his mouth to take me in.

Older guys give head differently than young bucks. Tim savored my cock rather than gobbling it. He found it luscious and sucked and licked and rubbed his plump lips up and down its length and girth slowly, lushly, like it was the finest shank ever offered. He took me deeply into his throat and it made his juices flow. Then, he relished the plush cockhead lightly between his lips.

I took a moment to enjoy the view of his head bobbing on my manhood. I rode the wave of delirious sensation that swept over me but had no intention of ending this by giving Tim a sloppy load on the couch. I lifted his mouth off me. It wasn't easy. He put up a struggle but finally I wrestled his lips to mine. He kissed me with the same hunger he had for my cock.

My hand found his cock through his trousers. It was what I expected, a little under-sized but eager. I raised his shirt to reveal his tits. As expected, his nipples were puffy and erect. I sucked one between my lips and Tim writhed beneath my tongue. I took stock of the intel I had gathered so far: unconstrained libido, wildly sensitive nipples, eager but undersized cock. There was one data point still missing. My hand left his cock and plunged further south. Even through layers of fabric, when my fingers massaged his ass, he jumped and moaned, OHHHH".

I broke our kiss. "Isn't this the point where you invite me to your bed?"

We were both naked by the time we made it beneath the sheets. His body was only slightly pudgy but his ass was firm and high. His eyes devoured my cut bod as he asked in disbelief, "You're how old? Sweet Jesus, I want to leave hickies on every inch of you." He tried.

His penis was an easy fit into my mouth and he came quickly and with gusto as my finger fucked his ass. My cock was not an easy fit as I entered him in a missionary position. (Call me stodgy, but I think the first fuck should be face to face. Banging a guy from behind right off the bat seems rude. So go ahead, call me stodgy.) He loosened quickly and started working my cock for all that it was worth. It was a slow, mounting fuck that had lots of fervent kissing. I matched his ejaculatory gusto when I finally erupted deep inside his ass.

We lay for a long time, content and moaning, "ohhhh." Tim said, "For future reference, sometimes I like to be bent over and pounded."

"Good to know. For future reference."