I'd known he was interested in me even if he hadn't been making moon eyes at me at the neighbors' dinner on Sunday night. I was surprised the others at the gathering couldn't see it. He'd been watching me doing my daily swim for most of the summer. I hadn't realized the people who invited us even knew Dan.
It was the neighbors across the street from us, Gail and Chase, who we traded house checking and mail pickup with when either of us was on vacation, who had invited us over. They'd also invited Dan from around the corner. We lived in a neighborhood whose residents primarily were connected with the university in some way because we were only three blocks from the edge of the campus. My wife, Julie, was a medical researcher there. I'd been a pro tennis player and worked with the university's tennis squad. Gail was the university registrar, and her husband, who'd been a chemistry professor, had turned that life in in favor of landscaping gardens. Dan was a research librarian at the university library.
It turns out that Dan's mother had been a family friend of Gail's family. They didn't say so, but they'd invited him to dinner with us on their back screened porch to check up on him and to cheer him up. His mother had died that winter. The two of them had lived together in a split foyer house, where she had the upstairs, with three bedrooms, and he had the downstairs with two bedrooms and a home office. He was able to work at home a couple of days a week to help look after her as her health deteriorated. She'd taken over a year to die and that had taken a toll on her son.
He obviously was gay—in contrast to me—meaning it wasn't obvious, I didn't think, that I wasn't fully hetero. I don't think anyone would have guessed that I was bi and actually preferred men. Dan was good-looking, in his mid-thirties, with a slim body and a somewhat effeminate way of carrying himself. I think he'd had boyfriends before he and his mother moved in together, but that probably had been avoided from that point forward. His mother likely knew he was gay but, just as likely, they'd never discussed it. He probably hadn't been fucked for ten years. Even I could tell at the gathering that he was jittery and tense. Others, I'm sure, thought it was from the loss of his mother. I thought it more likely from not having been fucked good for a long time.
He kept up with the conversation at dinner, but he was reserved—except that I kept noticing him giving me a longing look when he thought no one—but maybe me—was looking. By the end of the evening, I was pretty sure he was signaling to me. He had every reason to know I was active with men even though the rest didn't. Guys of that persuasion have a radar for such things, but I had made it quite obvious to him.
I'd brought it on myself, I guess. His yard was connected to ours in back. In all, five yards abutted ours. His was the only one with a line of sight on our swimming pool, though, where I liked to swim laps every warm morning. We had a nice pool, and there had been gates between our back yard and the other five since before we lived there. Apparently, our pool was used by the whole neighborhood at one time. I'd retired from professional tennis at thirty with a pile of money—you can make very good money even though you never rose to the semifinals of a big tournament—so, other than dabbling in work with the university tennis team, I had little to do other than keep myself in shape.
I was narcissistic, I admit. I liked being in shape and I liked having a cut body—and an overall tan. Sometimes I swam with a pouch swim suit and sometimes I swam and sunned myself in the nude. I didn't think I had to worry about being seen. The only window in another house that had a good shot of our pool area was that second floor of the split foyer where Dan's mother was bed bound—on the other side of her house from my yard—and dying.
I hadn't kept track of when she died and hadn't thought that maybe Dan would move upstairs. Whether he did or not, he started coming to the upstairs window when I was swimming—and staying there as I lay out on a pool bed to dry off—either in a pouch bikini bathing suit or the altogether.
When I noticed that he was watching, I teased him, without revealing that I knew he was there. He initially hid behind the curtains, but as he became aware that I knew he was there and it didn't affect what I did, he increasingly came out from behind the curtains. Eventually, he made no pretense about watching me. I started masturbating sometimes while lying on the pool bed after swimming. So, I guess it was my fault that I added to the poor guy's frustration and to his loneliness after his mother had passed.
I wasn't even thinking of Dan being in the window, watching, the day that I brought Champhorn, a Thai sophomore tennis player, home for a swim in the pool with me and to suck off my cock as I sat on the rim of the pool and he stood in the shallow end, his arms around my waist and his mouth making love to my cock and balls. For the finish, I laid on my back on the pool bed and Champhorn, saddled on my hips, rode me in a cowboy. When I let my gaze drift around to the trees while I was holding the waist of the cute, lithe Thai tennis player as he was bouncing on my shaft, I saw Dan standing there, in his window, watching us.
That must have been when Dan realized that not only was I built and liked to walk around in the raw or nearly so and even jacked myself off on occasion on my back at the pool, I also got it on with men and topped them. I certainly made that clear to him that day, because, even knowing he was up there, watching, I put Champhorn under me on all fours, fucked the shit out of him, and went off to the shower, leaving him collapsed on the pool bed, arms and legs dangling off the side, a silly expression on his face, purring, and blowing bubbles.
So, at dinner that Sunday night, I tried to be very nice to Dan. He apparently saw that as interest and, yeah sure, he was about my age and very good-looking—and obviously a total submissive. So, yeah, I was interested.
And when Gail and Chase told us of the rough time Dan was having adjusting to his mother's death and coming back into society, I felt guilty too.
"I think I'll take a loaf of your homemade bread around to Dan," I said when Julie and I got home. "He's asked me to help with information on research he's doing on Arthur Ashe, the tennis player, so I might be over there for a while."
"Fine with me, Max," she said. "Remember that I'm off to Charleston in the morning for a few days to visit Beth. You'll have to batch it."
"I'll manage," I said.
Dan had his front door open when I came up the walk—it was like he expected me to show up. It made the next forty-five minutes easier. At that point, I considered that I was just on a guilt-ridden mission of mercy. It was only later that I appreciated what a sweet lay he was.
* * * *
I fucked him that first time on the floor of what would have been his living room in the downstairs of the split foyer house. We kissed just inside the door and the kissing, adjusting of clothes, and fondling continued on a downstairs sofa. I made sure the curtains to the outside windows were closed. I had my torso raised by stiff arming the arm of the sofa and suspending my pelvis over his face as he lay on the sofa under me and sucked my cock. I was surprised that he wanted to take my cock in his mouth so soon, but he begged to suck me, so I sank my cock between his lips. He had a soft, talented mouth. Some things about him I didn't particularly like. Others I did. It was a mercy fuck, though, so I didn't dwell on what I didn't like any more than I had to. Once we got going, he had a mouth and a hole and a warm passage, so it was all good.
Once we got started there was no shyness in him. He wanted our torsos and cocks exposed, he wanted his hands on my muscular torso, and he wanted his mouth on my cock. He wanted to deep-throat me, and he did a good job of it for not having been spiked for some time.
He wanted us to be completely naked when we fucked, which was fine with me. He had a nice body, and I knew I had a great body and didn't mind showing it off or using it. I wasn't a complete drone on the career front. I did commercials, and I liked being in good shape for them. He couldn't get enough of me, running his hands over my body and telling me how beautiful it was. My concern was getting my dick in his hole. He gave me no fight in achieving that goal.
