This story has been posted to Literotica.Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.
Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.
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Richard O'Shea entered the lobby of the apartment building, cursing Massachusetts climate. It had been chilly this morning so he'd worn a heavy tweed suit. The late afternoon/early evening walk from Cosgrove Department Store had been sweltering and he could feel his formerly crisp white shirt clinging to his wet skin.
He stood on the doormat just inside of the door, waiting. A cute young man was dawdling at the mailbox kiosk as he fumbled through his mail.
"Huh? Oh! I, I'm sorry," the young man finally said, realizing he wasn't alone in the lobby.
"It's all right," Richard smiled.
The young man stepped aside and Richard found his mailbox key and checked his box. Again; nothing. Again, there was nothing from Althea Ridge, his literary agent, nothing from Surefleet Publishers Corp.
"At least it ain't a bunch of bills," Richard muttered darkly.
Trudging up the stairs, he watched the tight looking backside of the young neighbor flex and strain, flex and strain. The young man looked over his shoulder as Richard approached him on the third floor's landing.
"Apartment three C," Richard said in way of explanation.
"Huh? Oh, I, I'm in Apartment three A," the young man smiled.
"Hiya neighbor," Richard smiled as the young man opened the door of the hallway of the third floor apartments.
"Hiya neighbor," the young man agreed, stepping to the door directly across from Richard's apartment.
Once inside the apartment, Richard edged the thermostat down, fiddling with the dial until the air conditioning finally kicked on. Then he stripped out of that day's sweat soaked clothes. Stepping into his bathroom, he did not pause to admire himself in the faded bathroom mirror. He knew what he looked like.
He had long brown hair that hung down to just past his shoulder blades; he normally wore it in a ponytail. His warm brown eyes were under a single eyebrow and his nose was a little too large for his face. He'd once had a goatee and mustache, but a botched trimming job necessitated shaving the facial hair completely.
At six feet three inches, he was tall and muscular. He'd played football and baseball in high school and in college and strove to maintain his physique. Of their own accord, his beefy hand reached down and found his long, thick cock and heavy balls.
A nice cool shower washed away the day's sweat and he toweled dry. Then, pulling on a pair of terry cloth shorts, Richard made himself two meatloaf sandwiches, using up the last of Tuesday night's meatloaf. Then, finding nothing worth watching on television, Richard put on WWKT; Today's Top Country and rolled a nice, fat joint. Thinking of the cute young neighbor caused a slight jerk in his cock and he rolled three more joints, then walked across the hallway to knock on the door of Apartment 3A.
The peephole darkened for a moment, then the door opened. Richard smirked; what he could see of the interior of Apartment 3A showed him that this was most likely the young man's very first time living away from Mommy and Daddy. A cheap aluminum TV tray held a small flat tube television; most likely a 21 inch model. The couch had a bedsheet draped over it; most likely to cover rips and tears in the vinyl upholstery.
"Hey neighbor; by the way, I'm Richard. Richard O'Shea," Richard said.
"Huh? Oh! I I'm Derek," Derek Tate said, holding out a hand to shake.
"Hey Derek," Richard smiled, shaking the offered hand. "Listen. I'm getting ready to spark a joint; you smoke?"
"You, you kidding? Yeah!" Derek agreed eagerly. "Let me throw some pants on and..."
"Pants? Shit; what for? It's just us guys," Richard said, seeing Derek's bare legs sticking out from underneath his New England Patriots tee shirt. "I mean, look at me; all I got on is these shorts."
"Oh, okay," Derek said, stepping into the hall.
"Make sure you got your keys," Richard reminded the young man.
"Oh! Good thinking," Derek said, whirling to run back into the apartment.
When he whirled, Richard saw that Derek was wearing some colored briefs underneath the tee shirt. He felt his cock threaten to stiffen as he relished the sight of young buttocks in skimpy briefs. Mentally, he told his cock to behave.
Sitting on his loveseat, bare thighs touching bare thighs, they shared a joint and talked about the dismal performance of the New England Patriots ever since Tom Brady left. Richard grabbed two cans of beer and rolled three more joints. He found many reasons to touch Derek's bare leg and even rubbed Derek's upper thigh a few times.
Derek did not seem to mind their first kiss. He was wooden in his movements but did not pull away, did not scream in indignation as Richard softly kissed his pouting lips.
"You, you ever been with another man?" Richard gently asked, tweaking Derek's left nipple through tee shirt.